The Beatles: Summer Flings
by NatashaKay
Summary: It's the summer after high school has officially ended for one Quinn Fabray and her fellow seniors. The time spent during summer has to be a memorable one, and who to make it memorable for her than the New Directioners and the Dalton boys themselves? A Quinn/Jeff summer fic.
1. Let It Be

**Here is a random five-part Fanfic I've started since my holidays began. These ideas seemed to be buzzing around in my head, refusing to leave until they made sure I made full use of them. Hence, this fic of sorts.**

**I do not own anything of Glee; make no money from the stories; the original characters belong to the creators, producers, and scriptwriters. Any events related to real life are purely coincidental. **

**With that being said, I present to you, _The Beatles: Summer Flings_.**

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><p>Quinn stood in the public library by the newsprint archives, back pressed against one of the shelves, peering round the shelves cautiously. No one knew she was here, and she wasn't going to let anyone find out any time soon either. As far as her Mum was concerned, she was attending a <em>very<em> long evening sermon at church that could very well end past 8PM, knowing Pastor Mikaelson and his ongoing lifelong dream to spread the word of the good Lord to the world.

Dressed in dark skinny jeans, high-cut black Converse sneakers, black tank top and a black hoodie, Quinn could not blend in any better with the dark gothic students her age reading suicidal novels in the library, considering that they were the only ones that seemed to hang around in public libraries while _normal_ people were outside enjoying the summer evening. She was never one who particularly preferred dark clothing, because it contrasted with her pale skin, but whenever she visited the library, she made exceptions as to not be conspicuous.

'I'm hardly normal either, considering I'm in the library dressed up like them, too,' the blonde smirked to herself knowingly. 'Now, where are they? The librarian had said it was around the corner here...'

She rounded the corner to find herself right where she wanted to be: at the old vinyl record archives. Smiling quietly to herself, Quinn began to rifle through the stacks upon stacks of records. Even though the records weren't arranged in alphabetical order, she was perfectly content with going through those vintage records herself, since she had so much time in her hands now that summer has started.

After minutes of flipping through the sleeves, she finally found the record she had been looking for. Proudly hugging the vinyl sleeve with the record itself nestled safely inside, she backtracked her way to the checkout counter with a light spring in her step.

Upon rounding a corner at the biography section, she collided with a solid body. The impact caused Quinn and the other individual to land on their bums, various thick encyclopaedias that the other person must've been carrying strewn around them both. A particular volume bounced off her shin, and she winced in pain at the sudden contact. 'That's going to leave an attractive bruise,' she grimaced.

Recomposing themselves quickly and hastily, but at the same time, the two hurriedly picked up the fallen books, muttering strings of apology, which both were deaf to. As they both reached for the last offending volume that had hit Quinn's leg at the same time, their heads collided none too softly against each other's. Quinn clutched at the affected spot on her head, groaning softly, face scrunched up in another grimace. Then she looked up, registering for the first time who she had literally bump into.

"Jeff?" she blinked.

"Oh, shit. I'm so sor-" The blonde Warbler was mumbling before Quinn spoke up. He looked up at the acknowledgement, his face breaking into a wide grin in recognition. "Quinn!" he cried, a sparkle in his brown eyes. Then his smile faltered as he remembered why the two of them were kneeling on the carpeted library floor. "I'm _so_ sorry for running into you, and bumping your head, and the-" His eyes lowered unconsciously, suddenly noticing the encyclopaedias she had stacked on her lap. "-books," he trailed off, exasperated and a bit red in the face from embarrassment.

Quinn was still rubbing the sore spot on her head with her free hand. A look of confusion crossed her face as she studied Jeff before blurting out, "Didn't you feel any of the pain earlier?" Honestly speaking, he didn't look at all affected at the collisions prior.

He chuckled in response, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, Dad was always saying I had a hard head."

"No kidding," she mumbled. He had heard her, though, because he burst out laughing, eyes crinkling at the corners. An annoyed "Shh!" came from the adjacent aisle, which then made Jeff slap a hand over his mouth reflexively, a small still playing on his lips.

He pointed to the thick volumes on Quinn's lap. "I should relieve those from you, though. They're pretty heavy. And this-" He picked up the forgotten vinyl sleeve that had skidded underneath a nearby shelf. "-is yours."

The petite New Directioner nodded, and proceeded to exchange the encyclopaedias for the old record. Both stood up simultaneously upon the trade.

Only just noticing the band's name on the vinyl sleeve, Jeff piped up, smirking as he did. "The Beatles, huh? Didn't take you for an old school kind of girl." The two walked side-by-side toward the checkout counter, Jeff's arms laden with at least seven volumes of encyclopaedias while she cradled the record protectively to her chest.

Quinn beamed at Jeff, flashing brilliant white teeth. "I absolutely _love_ The Beatles! Their music is the epitome of _perfection_." Laughing, "Don't take me for the pop-rock type of girl, though. The hair's just a phase," she added with a roll of her eyes and a flip to her shoulder-length hair. "You've gotta appreciate the classics, after all, am I right?"

"Of course, of course!" The Warbler nodded animatedly, obviously excited; the brilliant smile on his face was a dead giveaway. "Favourite Beatle, go," he shot.

"John Lennon," she answered quickly without pausing to think.

He rolled his eyes and made a face. "How predictable of you, Fabray. It was either him, or Paul," he retorted, which earned him a hard punch to the arm. He grimaced at the impact before asking another question. "Favourite Beatle song, go."

"Easy. The most beautiful song in the world: _Let It Be_." She began humming the opening notes to the song.

Jeff softly belted out the instrumental part of the opening vocally, harmonizing along to her singing, and soon, the both of them were singing the song together in perfect sync under their breaths, only audible to each other's ears.

_"__When I find myself in times of trouble,__  
><em>_Mother Mary comes to me,__  
><em>_Speaking words of wisdom, let it be,__  
><em>_And in my hour of darkness,__  
><em>_She is standing right in front of me,__  
><em>_Speaking words of wisdom, let it be,__  
><em>_Let it be, let it be,__  
><em>_Let it be, let it be,__  
><em>_Whisper words of wisdom, let it be__._"

The two had started to slow their pace to the checkout counter, having similar thoughts: to finish the song before checking out their respective items they held in their hands.

"_A__nd when the broken hearted people,__  
><em>_Living in the world agree,__  
><em>_There will be an answer, let it be,__  
><em>_For though they may be parted,__  
><em>_There is still a chance that they will see,__  
><em>_There will be an answer, let it be,__  
><em>_Let it be, let it be,__  
><em>_Let it be, let it be__._"

Oblivious to the silent glares thrown their way, Quinn and Jeff continued singing, easily picking up where each other had left off as they took turns at each verse.

"_Oh there will be an answer, let it be,  
>Let it be, let it be,<br>Ah let it be, yeah let it be,  
>Whisper words of wisdom, let it be<em>_._"

They arrived at the counter just as Jeff hummed out the last note, a smile playing on his lips. He dumped the thick volumes on the counter unceremoniously, startling the elderly librarian who jumped from her seat behind the wide oak desk. Quinn was sure the expression on her face mirrored his as she placed her item on the counter next to his.

"You know," a voice cut in. "You two should really keep it down. It _is_ the library after all."

Without taking his eyes off Quinn, Jeff piped up. "Sorry, Mrs Clark." With a discreet wink to the girl next to him, he added to the librarian, flashing another charming smile to the lady, "Won't happen again, pinkie promise." He offered out his right hand, said pinkie extended. Quinn giggled.

Rolling her eyes with a smile on her face, Mrs Clark entwined Jeff's offered pinkie with her own. Quinn couldn't help but to stifle her laugh with a hand over her mouth as she watched both Jeff and Mrs Clark bobbed their entwined hands up and down twice, rubbed their own thumbs with each other's, then retrieved their hands back.

"Anyway," Jeff continued, propping his elbows on the counter and leaning forwards as Mrs Clark scanned the encyclopaedias. "You're in here -the _public_ library- to check out an old vinyl record?" He asked with great emphasis to the word 'public'.

Feigning shock with a hand clutched to her heart, Quinn gasped dramatically. "Jeff Sterling, Warbler extraordinaire, is _judging_ me, innocent Quinn Fabray?" Laughing, she dropped her hand, returning to composure. "I'm into these old school things nowadays," she replied with a nonchalant shrug.

He jutted his chin at the record. "You have a gramophone?"

She nodded, the smile on the face widening as she replied with, "I was going through all the old stuff in my attic the other night, and I literally stumbled on the old thing. There was a box of old records nearby as well," Quinn said, gesturing excitedly with her hands. "They still play and all, though the sound coming from the gramo's a bit crackly, with age, I s'pose."

Jeff grinned at the flushed girl. "That's so -I don't know how the hippies used to say it- _rad_." He stopped when Mrs Clark said, "Your books are all scanned, dear. Due date's in two weeks for each book." The elderly lady then took Quinn's record without hesitation. "By the way, the word 'rad' is being used by you youngsters," the librarian mumbled loud enough for the both of them to hear, not looking up once from the computer. "I believe the word you were looking for is 'twitchin'," she pointed out.

Quinn had to stifle another laugh, but Jeff simply chuckled. "Thanks, Mrs C; I'll be sure to keep that in mind."

"There you go, Quinn. Two weeks for you, too," the librarian smiled at blonde girl, sliding the sleeve across the counter. "Be sure to take care of it."

"Sure, Mrs Clark," Quinn smiled back. "Thanks."

"Thank you, Mrs C!" called Jeff across the lobby of the library as the two blondes strode toward the exit. A loud "Shh!" sounded from across the hall, causing Quinn to burst out from the library's double doors with a loud unladylike guffaw, snorting a little, to which Jeff raised an eyebrow at.

Collecting herself, Quinn flushed a light pink before raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow of her own. "You're the one to look at me like that. Pinkie promises with old Mrs Clark?" She gestured back to the library with a thumb as they crossed the road to the pavement across the street. "And _twitchin'_?"

Jeff shrugged his shoulders. "Hey, anything helps. Besides, I'm only like this with Mrs Clark; gives me leeway when I return the books I borrowed way past the due date," he grinned cheekily. "And _she_ said twitchin', not me," he added with a mumble.

"Suck up."

The Warbler gasped. "_Excusez-moi_?"

Quinn nodded to him. "You heard me," she said with a playful challenging tone in her voice.

"You are so lucky that I have these bricks to carry, or I'd tackle you to the ground."

"What's up with those anyway?" she questioned. "Light reading for the summer, eh?" She raised an eyebrow.

He faked a laugh, and then recomposed his face. "Hah, no. My mother's doing a research on something, or rather; I'd not like to find out anytime soon though," he said in all seriousness. "She's part of a research team in Harvard University, hence these cinderblocks." He jutted his chin down at the books. "Has to be thorough and all that professor nonsense."

"I see," Quinn responded half-heartedly, shedding the hoodie; the evening sun was blazing down upon them. 'Guess wearing black was a terrible idea,' she thought. Out loud, she asked, "You're in _Lima_ just for these books? Don't they have libraries in Westerville?"

"We do, but Mother wants every detail to be researched and covered, so she sent me here for the books that Westerville doesn't have," he replied with a roll of his chocolate brown eyes.

Quinn gave him a look that one would give when seeing a newborn infant. "Aww, do we have a Mummy's boy here?" She ruffled his hair.

"Hey, quit it!" he pouted, flipping his hair to its original position as best as he could. "You're really lucky that my arms are occupied," he said, huffing slightly.

She looked at him, puzzled. "And why didn't you drive here? We're heading towards the park, by the way."

"Follow me," came the simple reply.

The blondes walked in silence for the remainder of the journey, cutting through the Lima Recreational Park. In his haste, Jeff managed to trip and stumble on at least five tree roots, earning him looks from passersby, but he managed not to drop any of the books he was carrying in his arms. Quinn had offered to relieve some of the books from him, but he refused, angling the books away from her when she tried to take a few from him. On occasion, Jeff would glance at her from the corner of his eyes, face a deep scarlet every time he managed to trip himself on something.

Quinn heard him mumble to himself, "I could see better if these books weren't in my way." It only took an immense self-control from her not to burst out laughing when he said that.

Finally, the two of them exited the park through the west entrance. Crossing the street, Jeff led her to the part of the town that the Lima citizens had dubbed 'Old England Market Square.' True to its name, the ground of the market was paved with cobblestones, the buildings carved out of limestone. Little stalls dotted the already-narrow walkway, the vendors calling out bargains to the shoppers, fighting to be overheard over one another as the Warbler led her through the throng.

"Jeff," she called. "Where are you taking me?"

"Just follow me." His reply was barely audible to her; the evening market din of the Sunday flea market drowned out his voice as she struggled to catch up with him with a small crowd between them. She barely kept up with him, eyes never straying from the back of his bleached blonde head.

She followed him to a cute little café at the end of the street, where a beautiful and petite lone woman in her late thirties or early forties was seated outside by the café's garden hedge, a stack of books on the wicker chair next to her. Her blonde hair was pulled back to a tight ponytail, accentuating her high cheekbones. She was dressed comfortably in a white sundress. On the table sat a cup of what Quinn suspected was chai, surrounded by pieces of paper, and pens of various colours. The woman was currently staring blankly into the cup of tea, nibbling at one end of the pen she had gripped in her bangle-adorned wrist.

"Mother," Jeff called warmly. "Your darling son has returned!" Quinn gaped at her friend. _This_ woman is Jeff's mom?

Without looking up from the tea, the woman smiled to the mug. "Hello, Jeffers."

Her son cleared his throat. "Mother," he repeated, this time in a more serious tone. "This is a friend of mine, Quinn."

The woman looked up then, bored eyes sparkling to life when she noted the girl next to Jeff. Smiling, the warm brown eyes Jeff must've inherited from this woman travelled up and down, studying Quinn apprehensively as the latter fidgeted under the woman's gaze. Finally, "Hello, dear. I'm sorry I didn't notice you earlier; my mind was somewhere else," she apologised with a small laugh, waving a hand flippantly by her head. She got up from her seat, extending a hand. "Clara."

Quinn took the woman's proffered hand, returning the smile. "Quinn Fabray. Nice to meet you, Mrs Sterling." They politely shook hands.

Shaking her head, Mrs Sterling said with a warning tone in her velvety voice. "No, no, dear. You _must_ call me Clara." She gestured to Jeff. "All his friends do."

Rolling his eyes behind his mother's back, Jeff dumped the encyclopaedias on an unoccupied chair. "Your books as requested, lovely maiden. Don't frighten the girl, please, Mother," he added.

Mrs Sterling threw her hands up in the air. "_Must_ you imply that I always frighten your lovely-" she cut off, leaned towards Quinn and quickly added to her in a whisper, "You, my dear, are by far the _loveliest_-" She turned back to her son, eyes rolled heavenward. "-friends? I'm wounded, dear son of mine!"

Quinn giggled at Mrs Sterling's dramatic reaction while Jeff rolled his eyes again, head shaking, sighing. She didn't know how to make of this little family exchange. The both of them seemed so _close_, judging by the way that they were communicating with each other.

The older Sterling swooped down on to her seat and reached for the Kate Spade tote at the foot of the table. Gingerly placing it on her lap, she rifled through the contents inside, pulling out a black quilted Chanel purse. She handed her son a hundred-dollar bill. "Take this, Jeffers." He plucked the note from his mother, smiling; he knew what his mother would say in the next few seconds. Then she turned to Quinn, smiling brightly, absently addressing her son while looking at her, "Treat her to something nice, dinner preferably; she deserves it."

At that, Quinn blushed a furious red, stammering, "Oh, no, it's no need, Mrs Sterl-"

"Clara," the woman cut her off, still smiling softly. "I'm Clara."

"I'm sorry. Clara," Quinn quickly corrected herself. "You don't have to make Jeff do that. It's perfectly alright."

"Ah, but wait, dear," the woman said knowingly. "I, as Jeff's darling mother-" she planted both hands, one over the other, on her chest. "-can make him do what _I_ want him to do. And, I _want_ him to treat you."

Quinn looked at Jeff with a pleading look in her eyes, her mouth opened to start protesting before Mrs Sterling raised a hand to stop her. Tutting, she said, a small smirk playing on her lips, "I'll be hurt if you refused, Quinnie, dear. Do you want to hurt this old lady?" She ended with a dramatic sigh, pouting.

"No, of course not! I-"

"Great! Then it's settled then!" clapped Mrs Sterling. She turned to her son standing by her elbow, took his forearm, and pulled him down to whisper in his ear. Quinn gaped at Jeff, who was smiling gently at her while his mother whispered to him. He hadn't said a word during Mrs Sterling's insistence on him taking her out.

Jeff finally straightened his posture after his mother released his arm. Grinning, he said to Quinn, "Let's go!" He bounded toward her as an excited puppy would, grabbing ahold of the hand that wasn't clutching the record, and gently tugging her away.

"Bye, darlings! Be good," Mrs Sterling called absently after them, giving a small wave to which Quinn returned as Jeff dragged her through the market again.

Halfway through the square, Jeff slowed to a walk, never once letting go of Quinn's dainty hand. He led her to an alleyway between two buildings, rounding many corners and finally coming to a stop at a crossroad clearing. Straight ahead was a dead end, so that definitely wasn't the way they were headed. The left and right were similar, but Jeff was tugging Quinn to the right. They stopped at an unmarked wooden back door after walking a few steps, to which Jeff just barged in without knocking. Quinn, too shocked at Jeff's sudden and, not to mention, rude action, mutely followed him, hand still in his.

"_Bonjour_, Jeff, m'boy!" a heavily accented booming voice shouted upon the both of them entering. "Gaston!" Jeff had exclaimed at the greeting.

"Your _maman_ called ahead; your table is all ready for you!" continued the heavyset man.

Quinn just stood rooted where she was, taking note of her surroundings, face in awe. She seemed to be in a kitchen, with many cooks dressed in crisp white uniforms bustling about, yelling in distinct French. 'I'm in standing in the kitchen of a French restaurant,' she thought in awe. Gleaming utensils hung from the island counter, and wonderful smells were tickling her nose, tempting her.

"_Merci__ beaucoup_, Gaston," Jeff beamed at the portly man also dressed in white, a chef's hat sat atop his curly black hair. He led the two blondes through another door, and into the dining area of the restaurant, gesturing to a waiter to show his guests to a secluded booth nearby. Before ducking back to the kitchen, the head chef called out to Jeff, "_Vous avez__une petite amie__très belle_ (You have a beautiful girlfriend), Jeff!"

Laughing and waving the hand that wasn't holding Quinn's, Jeff yelled back a "_Merci_, Gaston!" before settling himself down at the booth after she seated herself on the plush cushions.

The waiter then left Jeff and Quinn alone with a platter of hors d'oeuvres between them and a tall flute of what seemed to be sparkling cider each, throwing a smile at Jeff, who returned it with a grin of his own, before walking away.

Quinn studied the restaurant's interior décor. The high ceiling was hand-carved with intricate designs, swirls, and various flora. A large crystal chandelier that she had suspected, without a doubt, was made of real crystals hung from the middle of the ceiling. Dim light bulbs and wall lamps hung at intervals, providing an intimate ambience while a single candlelight burned at every table, which were strategically spaced apart, ensuring private moments for intimacy and quiet conversations. Faux hedges partitioned each booth. Overall, the décor was simple, yet it created the cosiest environment the restaurant could offer its guests.

Silent since the odd exchange between Jeff and his mother, Quinn finally spoke up. "What was _that_ all about? What did your mother tell you? Did she ask you to take me here? Did you not wonder if I had any plans before you dragged me here?" she demanded with a frown, hands fidgeting under the table, lips a thin line.

"Well, do you?"

"No," she admitted after a short pause.

Jeff smiled up at her. He dropped the little crab cake he had reached for on the table and held up a hand, fingers splayed. Using his other hand, he ticked off Quinn's questions one by one. "Gaston is Dad's part-time personal chef, and also a family friend; I've known him since I could chew properly. He's from France, and this-" he swept a hand over the restaurant. "is his bistro!" he smiled proudly before continuing. "Two: yes, Mother suggested bringing you here. It is her favourite bistro in Ohio, besides Gaston being her favourite chef." Satisfied, he flashed another blinding smile at her.

She let out a sigh, cheeks puffing out. She obviously couldn't go against Mrs Sterling's wishes. "Your mum sounds fabulous," she finally said wistfully.

Jeff nodded, bouncing in his seat. "Oh, yes, she is! She might've have been born into an obscenely wealthy family, but she's really down-to-earth. Hence, the whole taking part of the research thing. When she isn't researching, she's a part-time professor teaching Medical Science in Harvard. Claims she "doesn't want to lose her intelligence with her age rapidly catching up-" He made quotation marks with his fingers. "What a load of nonsense, if you asked me."

Quinn blinked. Mrs Sterling sounded really, well, _exceptional_. Intrigued, with eyes widened, she asked, "Please tell me more about your mom."

Shrugging, Jeff rambled on. "Before she married Dad, she was an actress in, um, France, if I'm not mistaken. She married dad young; 20, I think, and had me a year after. That's why she looks more like a sister to me, than a mother, or so says my friends. They -Mum and Dad, I mean- met on one of Dad's business trips there, in a farmer's market, believe it or not." He chuckled to himself, fingers toying with the linen napkin on his lap, reminiscing at the memory his mother often told him when he was younger. "Her family deals with aircrafts worldwide, since the early 1800s. Her maiden name's Brightman, by the way.

"Dad's Samuel Sterling the second, and originally from the UK, as were the Sterling lineage. His family provides security to various companies and private establishments worldwide, including to the Royal Family in Britain. Nothing much about him there, besides being in Europe almost all year, only returning to Ohio during festive seasons.

"I'm an only child. I've got cousins, of course. Twins, Evan and Ethan Brightman, who attend Dalton with me, and their sister, Audrey, is somewhere in Europe, too."

Quinn gaped, mouth hanging open. Jeff laughed at her reaction and promptly leaned over the table to gently shut her mouth by pushing her up chin gently. "You'll catch flies, Fabray."

"You- I mean, you're- Family- Your mum-" she stammered, unable to find the right words to string into a proper sentence. "She sounds _wonderful_!"

"Yeah, she is something." He grabbed another crab cake and started picking it apart, not exactly eating it. Jeff looked up and met her hazel-green eyes. "Tell me about your family."

Suddenly self-conscious with the spotlight on her, Quinn made a reflex grab at the flute of sparkling drink, toying with the elegant stem. "Nothing much about them, really."

He made a grab for the flute from her, almost spilling its contents. "C'mon," he whined.

"Not as great as your family," she mumbled. "Dad's a staunch Christian, and had imposed that on us ever since I could remember. Mum's the same, but not as strict. They're both divorced, by the way," she hastily added, ducking her head in embarrassment.

"Hey, it's not your fault." He covered her hand with his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

She smiled sadly at him. "I guess not; he went against what religion had taught him anyway. Mum's still the shining beacon of light in my life, besides my older sister, Frannie. Despite the divorce, she's still really strong, for me especially. Fran's married to some guy who owns chains of UPS stores across the country, but I don't know much about him."

Squeezing her hand again, Jeff said, "Hey, don't think too much about it. I didn't mean to pry, though," he apologised.

"It's okay. Only fair of me, since you've already told me about your amazing family."

Upon completing her sentence, the waiter appeared, oblivious to the pair until he cleared his throat and placed an elegantly decorated plate in front of them both. Standing ramrod straight, the waiter spoke with a heavy French accent. "May I start with the beautiful lady?" He gestured to Quinn politely, bowing slightly. "For her, Chef Gaston has personally prepared filets of _sole __véronique_, complemented with a rich velvety cream sauce." Turning to Jeff, he inclined his head. "For Mr Sterling, Chef Gaston has prepared _steak au __poivre_ with a rich cognac sauce, served with a side of _pommes frites_ and asparagus."

"Thank you, Pascal." Jeff grinned at the waiter, reaching for his silverware.

"Enjoy your food, _mon__cher_," the poised waiter said, inclining his head to Quinn. "Jeff," the waiter called in a warning tone. "_Votre__mère vous a dit__de se comporter _(Your mtoher told you to behave)." He strode away with that being said, a smile on his lips.

The Warbler chuckled, shaking his head. He earned a questioning look from Quinn. "What did he say?" He watched her as she stabbed a piece of fish from her dish and pushed it in her mouth. Her eyes grew wider and wider with eat bite as she chewed.

"What?" Jeff asked, alarm lacing his voice. "Has the fish gone bad?" The hand that was gripping the fork flashed out, speared a filet, shoved it in his mouth, and chewed quickly. He frowned. "No, it hasn't. Quinn? What's wrong with it?"

Swallowing, Quinn stared wide-eyed at her friend. "The fish. It's- It's- It's _delicious_."

"Oh," Jeff let out a breath of relief, slumping back on the cushions. "You frightened me there." He then cut his steak into neat squares, before placing the knife down and eating with the fork. He stabbed a piece and offered it to Quinn, who ate from the fork, chewing thoughtfully. Her eye widened again as Jeff watched her chew, amusement sparkling in his eyes.

"It's- The steak- _Oh, my Goodness_," she breathed after swallowing the bite.

Smirking, he nodded towards the kitchen. "Gaston's talented like that."

She continued eating her filet. "Tell me about it; they're scrumptious!"

"Mother warned me to be careful." He absently answered her question as they both ate.

"Hm? About what?"

Jeff's eyes clouded over for a split second. "_Maman_," he muttered, head shaking. "Never mind," he said with finality.

'I can't pry anyway, so I won't ask anymore questions,' Quinn thought, shrugging internally.

In attempts of keeping the conversation between them going, she asked, "So, any plans for college?" She knew Kurt and Rachel have applied and gotten into NYADA, herself accepted into-

"Yale. I got into Yale," was his reply, shrugging lightly.

She studied him for a second. "Really? Oh, thank you," she said to Pascal the waiter, who had appeared as if out of nowhere, clearing the empty main course dishes from the two. Without hesitation, the waiter placed two smaller plates in front of the guests, followed by platters of dessert between them.

Sweeping a hand over the platters, he simply pointed out. "Desserts." He pointed with a thumb a platter with two slices of what seemed to be apple pie. "_Tarte__tétin_, caramelised apple pie with a dollop of whipped cream." He then gestured to a bowl. "_Trou normand_ is a sorbet of your choice -apple or lemon- mixed with a hint of alcohol _Chouquettes_-," he continued, thumb pointing to another bowl of plum-sized chocolate balls. "-are choco balls topped with chunks of sugar. And of course, éclairs, which I believe are self-explanatory," he said with a wink to Quinn, who giggled. "Finally, we have a simple _café gourmand_: coffee that is complemented with a triangle of rich chocolate brownie, a serving of _crème __brulée_ and _clafoutis_." Pascal bowed slightly, and retreated back in to the kitchens.

Jeff looked up toward the direction of the kitchen, hand waving. The head chef was beaming at the two of them from the little window on the kitchen door. "_Merci_, Gaston!"

Quinn could hear the jolly man chuckle deeply. She turned, waving and smiling at the chef, mouthing a 'Thank you' to the chef, who only winked at her in response.

"Let's play a game," Jeff suggested, a cheeky grin plastered on his face.

She gave him a questioning look. "What game?"

"You close your eyes, I feed you the desserts one by one, and you have to guess!"

"No."

His face fell. "No?" he pouted.

"Because the desserts are pretty obvious, don't you think? The apple pie would taste like apples; chocolates are, well, chocolates; the tinge of liquor in the sorbet would only give it away; and I think I know what éclairs taste like," she explained with a smirk.

He looked down at the dessertspoon he was holding. "You're right," he admitted. "I never thought of that." He chuckled softly to himself. "That was a lame attempt at flirting with you, I guess."

"Y'know," Quinn started, reaching for the apple pie. "For a Dalton boy-" she swiped at the whipped cream with a finger. "-you're pretty dumb." She finished, swiping the finger on Jeff's nose with a laugh as he went cross-eyed looking at his nose.

He rolled his eyes, but smiled. "You win, Fabray." He had polished off a brownie and was quickly reaching for the _crème __brulée_, scooping out a helping and offering the spoon to Quinn, who closed her lips over it. "And for that, you deserve a prize."

"What is it?" she asked after swallowing the sweet pudding, eyebrows raised.

"Go out on another date with me."

* * *

><p><strong>I hoped you enjoyed this chapter. Fret not, this is merely part one of a five-part story, so stay tuned! <strong>

**Note: I would love to hear what you think of this chapter, so do drop a review or two if it's not too much trouble. Criticism is welcomed, so that I can improve on my future writing. **

**Thank you for reading! (:**


	2. Eleanor Rigby

**This is part two of a random five-part Fanfic. It was extremely fun writing this chapter, and I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.**

**I do not own anything of Glee; make no money from the stories; the original characters belong to the creators, producers, and scriptwriters. Any events related to real life are purely coincidental. **

**Special appearances by CP Coulter's original Dalton characters in alphabetical order: Brightman, Ethan; Brightman, Evan; Houston, Dwight; van Kamp, Reed.**

**I know according to CP Coulter's Weebly list of Dalton characters that Jeff is listed under Hanover house, I envisioned him to be in Stuart though.**

**With that being said, I present to you part two of _The Beatles: Summer Flings_.**

* * *

><p>"Go out on another date with me."<p>

Quinn chocked on the piece of pastry lodged in her throat. "S-Sorry?"

He repeated his proposal, adding in, "Without my mother or our part-time personal chef butting in." He absently waved a hand to the kitchens. "So what do you say?"

Just as she was about to open her mouth to give him an answer, her phone rang shrilly in from the discarded hoodie by her side, startling the two occupants in the booth. Quickly, Quinn patted down the garment in search for it. Upon locating it, she flipped open the phone, not bothered to check the caller ID.

"Hello?" she started before removing the earpiece from her ear. Jeff could hear loud excited screaming coming from the other end. When the screaming died down, -either that, or the caller had walked away from the noise- Quinn spoke up again. "Kurt?" she frowned. "What's wrong?"

Jeff could only watch with a curious look while munching on the little desserts, eyebrows raised in question.

"I'm having dinner, Kurt," she answered, smiling eyes travelling to Jeff. "No, I'm with a friend. It'd be terribly sad for me to have dinner alone, wouldn't it. . . Are they now. . You guys aren't the only friends I have, you know. . . No, I'm sorry. . . Yes, as a matter of fact . . . Hmm, wouldn't you like to know," she said with a knowing smirk while glancing at Jeff. "Yes, alright, I'll see you later." She hung up.

Jeff raised a questioning eyebrow. "What did Kurt want?"

"They threw a surprise party at my house, but it was kaput when they realized that I wasn't in," she explained with a roll of her eyes. "Mum gave them full permission to do whatever they wanted, as long it didn't get out of control. She's stepped out again so that the party could go on."

"Then I s'pose this date's over?" He lowered his eyes to the table.

"Jeff," she said with a playful tone in her voice, a hand covering his. Smiling sweetly, she batted her eyelashes and asked with an equally sweet voice, "May I please borrow your phone?"

Shrugging, he pulled out his Blackberry from his jeans and handed it to Quinn. He didn't even realise that she had avoided answering his question altogether. "What're you doing?" he asked, leaning over to see what she was typing out. She only angled the phone away from him as she typed furiously, waving him off with an absent "You'll see."

She held his phone in her hands, even after she did what she had to do. He reached for it when it vibrated loudly in her hands, but she just angled it away from his reach, grinning.

"I'll only return it when we clear these plates of dessert," she promised, a glint in her eyes.

Just as Quinn finished her sentence, Jeff's hand shot up, signalling to Pascal, the waiter, who weaved through the tables expertly.

"The lady would like these cleared-" Jeff gestured to the platters, ignoring Quinn's "Hey, I didn't mean it like tha-" She was cut off by Jeff who gently slapped his hand over her mouth -the waiter raised his eyebrows in amusement- before finishing his sentence. "-in a doggie bag, if you don't mind, Pascal. Thank you."

Pascal inclined his head. "_Oui_." He efficiently stacked each platter on both arms before moving back to the kitchen with the unfinished dessert.

"Jeff!" Quinn huffed when he removed his hand from her mouth. He was grinning at her exasperated expression. "It's rude of us not to finish what Chef Gaston has personally prepared for us!"

"He'll understand. Besides, it wouldn't be a party if the guest of honour isn't there," he reminded her of the party ongoing at her house.

"Your doggie bag," the waiter informed, placing the large brown paper bag on the table. "And Chef Gaston says the meal is on the house; your _maman_ made sure of that." He then proceeded to take out a small index card from his lapel pocket and handed it to Jeff, who took it without question.

Pascal inclined his head politely to Quinn, nodded to Jeff, and walked away. Then Jeff read the index card given to him, chuckling.

Curious, Quinn bounced over to his side to read over his shoulder, but to her frustration, it was written in French. "What does it say?" she asked, playfully prodding him in his side.

"Nothing," he said, turning to smile at her. "I have my car back from Mother; let's go." He grabbed her hand, dragging her out of the booth. She quickly made a grab for the vinyl record and hoodie and allowed him to lead her out through the front entrance of the bistro.

They had stood on the cobbled pavement for less than thirty seconds when a sleet black Audi R8 Spyder sped around the corner and came to a stop in front of them. A valet attendant dressed in black slacks and a crisp white shirt emerged from the driver's side, inclining his head to Jeff.

Quinn gaped at the beautiful car before her, mouth ajar. She knew he was rich, but not _this_ rich. She must be dreaming, so she discreetly pinched herself. 'Nope, definitely not dreaming.'

"Your vehicle, sir," the attendant said.

"Thank you," he said, slipping a twenty in the attendant's hand. Jeff then opened the passenger side door, gesturing for Quinn to enter. She hesitantly went in, sitting on the leather bucket seat, eyes wandering in awe at the elegant interior.

The windows were tinted dark enough so that people couldn't look in, no matter how hard they tried; the upholstery of the interior were all black leather, monogrammed with the letters 'J.S.S' in gold stitching on both the doors; gleaming buttons and panels boasted the music player. The only thing that stood out was the blue and red Dalton crest stitched on the headrest of the driver's seat.

"This car was a 16th birthday present from Dad, his form of apology for being away all the time, I guess. Mother added my initials and upgraded the sound systems for my 17th. The monochrome rims were from my friends," he explained nonchalantly.

From the passenger seat, she gaped openly at him, rendered speechless at this flippant explanation.

"What?" he looked at her sceptically when he didn't receive any form of response.

She sighed. "Nothing." She fiddled with the touch screen display, flipping through the various music albums. "You have The Beatles, too!" she exclaimed happily. Quinn browsed through the songs, and selected one, the familiar music trickling through the speakers.

"_Eleanor Rigby_?" He raised an eyebrow.

Giggling, she grinned and prodded playfully at him. "Sing!"

He cleared his throat as he accelerated the car. He let the opening verse pass on, and Jeff sang, voice deep and sultry:

"_Eleanor Rigby picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been,__  
><em>_Lives in a dream,__  
><em>_Waits at the window, wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door,__  
><em>_Who is it for?_"

Quinn joined in at the chorus, their voices merging at the right notes, complementing each other perfectly.

"_All the lonely people,__  
><em>_Where do they all come from?__  
><em>_All the lonely people,__  
><em>_Where do they all belong?_"

Jeff was smiling as he drove, right hand on the wheel and the other lowering down the volume of the music. The voice of the two glee club singers soared, drowning out the original singers' voices. She provided backup vocals for him as they both sang, the scenery outside whizzing past at the speed Jeff was driving at.

"_All the lonely people, (Ah, look at all the lonely people)__  
><em>_Where do they all come from?__  
><em>_All the lonely people, (Ah, look at all the lonely people)__  
><em>_Where do they all belong?_"

The song had the two panting for breath at the closing. Quinn was breathing heavily, gazing at Jeff with a look of contempt, wonder. He was catching his breath as well, peering at her from the corner of his eyes. She was smiling, and it was contagious, because his lips pulled to a smile as well. Simultaneously, they both laughed.

When the laughter died down, Jeff spoke. "You were amazing."

"You're not so bad yourself." A light pink tinted her cheeks. 'It's just from overexertion.' She made an excuse to herself as to why she was blushing lightly.

"Oh, please," he scoffed. "I only had you to accompany me; you totally overshadowed me!"

She giggled. "Let's just agree that both of us were equally as good." He nodded in agreement before she added in with a quiet mumble, "You were just better." He'd heard, and was about to whine in protest when she piped up. "Take a corner here. My house should be on your left, number 119."

He came to a stop behind a familiar Rolls Royce, which was parked behind an equally familiar Impala. Across the road was Kurt's Navigator, a Honda Civic Hybrid that must be Mike Chang's car, and Santana's red convertible sports car. Jeff heard faint thumping music coming from a large three-storey house that must be Quinn's, but it was pitch black inside with the curtains drawn.

"Before we go in, I'd like to return your phone back-" she handed him back his Blackberry, LED light flashing with multiple text messages. "-and also, to let you know I invited your Dalton friends over," she finished with a grin.

"You did _what_?" he blurted, eyes wide.

She nodded with an adorable smile. "I sent a mass text to a group labelled 'Windsor Warblers' in your phone." She unlocked the seatbelt, giggling, and dashed out of the car to the driveway of her house. Jeff shook his head, sighing but smiling to himself. All the same, he cut the engine of his car, got out, and locked it, walking toward the porch where Quinn stood waiting for him with a smile.

"You know," he said, pocketing his keys. "You're lucky it's summer, and we have so much free time in our hands." He studied the stained-glass door behind her, wondering if he could make a mad dash away from the party. Parties weren't his scene, especially parties with Windsors as guests.

As if reading his mind, Quinn just laughed and slipped her hand in his, pulling him through the door before he could turn and run back to his car. "The look on your face implies you're trying to run away, Sterling. Besides, your friends are already here."

Upon crossing the threshold, Quinn was almost bulldozed over by a pair of golden blurs trying to smother her in a hug. "She's back!" the blonde pair of twins exclaimed at the exact same time. She heard Jeff groan next to her, his hand still clasped in hers. "Jeffers!" They exclaimed as the two hugged Jeff, muffling the latter.

The twins released their cousin. "I just _knew_ that car outside were yours." Jeff groaned. Turning to Quinn, he pointed at the twins. "These two numbskulls are my twin cousins I was telling you about earlier. Ethan," he pointed to the grinning twin on the right. "Also known as Tweedle-Dee and this is-" he gestured to the other also-grinning twin.

"-Tweedle-Dum. Evan," Quinn picked up where Jeff had left off as both the twins brightened at the girl who had caught on so quickly. At the same moment, the Tweedles reached behind, but Jeff already had a hand on his cousins' chests, a warning look in his eyes. "Don't. Not here, you two."

A whine escaped the twins' mouth with Quinn's gaze flickering between the cousins.

"Jeffers! It's not fair!" one moaned.

"You're ruining the party!" the other finished.

Jeff glared at the twins, whispering loudly to them. "It's her house; you respect its occupants." He softened at the dejected looks on their faces. "Another time," he promised with a discreet wink. At this, the twins immediately brightened up. Jeff turned to a confused-looking Quinn. "They Nerf people they meet for the first time," he explained, shrugging.

"Before you smother the girl, Tweedles," a feminine voice sounded from behind the hulking twins. "You _will_ let me get a word in." Kurt pushed his way between the grinning twins, dressed in a plaid shirt and khaki pants. "Quinn!" He hugged her. "Jeff?" Surprise etched on his face, he turned to Quinn, who simply shrugged. "How do you know him?"

She rolled her eyes. "We met during Sectionals two years ago, remember?" Nodding to where the heavy music was thumping from, she asked Kurt, "What's the occasion?"

"This is your Yale acceptance party!" Kurt clapped.

Jeff turned to her at the statement, surprise marring his features. "You got accepted into Yale, too?" he queried.

She nodded. "I wanted to tell you earlier, but I didn't have the chance to." She smiled apologetically. The twins only looked amusedly at the three, heads swinging from Kurt to Quinn to Jeff, and back to Quinn. Their eyes were sparkling with mischief.

The feminine boy rolled his eyes, already making his way back to the party. "We can socialise later, but now it's time to party!"

As if on cue, the twin on the right gently shoved Jeff out of the way to stand next to Quinn while the other twin moved to her left side. They each took an arm from her, setting them at the crook of their elbows. She laughed in amusement as she allowed the twins to take her. Jeff followed them, smiling.

"We would now like to introduce you around. . ."

". . . to our friends, both Windsor and Warblers alike!"

They led Quinn through an arch, past the living room, to the kitchen and down a flight of stairs leading to the vast basement, where the music grew steadily louder, the bass music pumping in her ears. The room was flashing pink and yellow from the strobe lights fixated on the ceiling, music thumping from a ceiling-to-floor sound system placed on a dais that Jeff had a sneaking suspicion belonged to the twins. The crowd gathered were people who Jeff could easily identify as New Directioners, the Dalton Academy Warblers and give or take a few normal day students of Dalton.

He immediately noticed Blaine, Wes, and David sitting on the couch by the massive boom box, unfazed by the volume of music the machine was pounding out. Yet, Jeff could still see the trio having a conversation despite the noise. Allowing the twins to lead Quinn to the dance floor, he weaved his way through the crowd to plop unceremoniously at their feet.

"Hey, man!" Wes clapped a hand on Jeff's shoulder in greeting while David high-fived him. Blaine nodded and grinned at him in acknowledgement.

"Thanks for inviting us to this party, Jeff," David shouted over the music, raising a red plastic cup of something. Jeff didn't want to think it was alcohol, knowing how reckless these guys could be anyplace involving alcohol. Wes and Blaine nodded in agreement, raising their own cups.

Jeff shook his head, chuckling. "I didn't."

"Here, have a drink." Someone thrust a cup into Jeff's hand, almost spilling the contents on his lap. He gingerly placed the cup behind the couch where no one would topple it over, a grimace on his face. He generally wasn't an alcohol guy, only drinking on occasions, and it wasn't a pretty sight when a certain Jeff Sterling got drunk.

Wes gave the blonde a questioning look. "You texted us all, didn't you?" David seconded it, adding in, "We all got a text from you."

"Quinn took my phone and sent that mass text to you guys," he explained, rolling his eyes. Then he smirked. "At least she didn't send it to the other Warblers. I had the right mind to group the Warblers according to their Houses in my phone, or this party would turn to a full-fledged battleground with the Windsors and Stuarts in the same room outside of the Warblers Hall."

David was laughing while wiping an exaggerated tear from his eye. "Boy's looking out for us!" Wes was sipping his drink with a smirk on his face. Blaine reached down to pat Jeff's shoulder. "You know you're the only Stuart we can stand, besides Bailey," said the shorter curly-haired boy. "You're okay, Jeff," he added with a kind smile.

"So. . . You and Quinn, eh?" David raised an eyebrow.

Jeff grinned, eyes wandering to the dance floor where he immediately caught the aforementioned girl's eyes, who threw her head back and was laughing. He couldn't help but smile back at her as she threw her hands up, bouncing along to the music. He had to admit, she really was someone to think about. As beautiful as a wallflower, smarts that could give him a run for his money, a laugh that was often followed by a snort which sounded _just_ right without being borderline gross, and not to mention _she's to attend Yale with him_ after summer.

Wes and David were catcalling with glee when they had noticed Jeff staring at the dancing Quinn instead of answering David's question. Blaine was only smirking knowingly at Jeff.

'Screw this,' Jeff thought, getting up from where he sat on the floor. He turned to the massive sound system and immediately located the array of CDs scattered on the floor. He quickly found the band he was looking for, popped the disc in, and set it to play after the current song ended. Grabbing a discarded microphone from where it had fallen over, he switched it on, and screamed into it.

"_How about some old school dancing_?"

A loud cheer erupted from the crowd as the music tempo changed. The crowd, energised with the change of genre of the song, began dancing along. Jeff stood on the mini-stage, microphone in hand and began singing the opening. His eyes were focused on one dancing blonde girl in the middle of the floor, surrounded by her friends.

"_Well, she was just 17,__  
><em>_You know what I mean,__  
><em>_And the way she looked was way beyond compare,__  
><em>_So how could I dance with another, (Ooh)__  
><em>_When I saw her standing there_."

Grinning, the triad on the couch jumped up from their seats and joined their fellow Warbler onstage, providing backup vocals. From where he was standing overlooking the dance floor, Jeff managed to catch Quinn's eyes for the second time. He gave her a wink and held her gaze as he continued singing:

"_Well she looked at me, and I, I could see,__  
><em>_That before too long I'd fall in love with her,__  
><em>_She wouldn't dance with another, (Wooh)__  
><em>_When I saw her standing there_."

He took the microphone off its stand and hopped off the stage, making his way through the dancing crowd towards Quinn. She had her head thrown back, hands up in the air and was jumping along to the music. She had never felt this alive, ever. He took her hand, twirled her around once, and continued to sing. Wes, David, and Blaine stood backing up Jeff's vocals onstage.

"_Woah, we danced through the night,__  
><em>_And we held each other tight,__  
><em>_And before too long I fell in love with her,__  
><em>_Now I'll never dance with another, (Wooh)__  
><em>_Since I saw her standing there_."

Fuelled by pure adrenaline and acting by the spur of the moment, he held her hand in his, panting heavily just as the backup vocals trailed away, signalling the end of the song. The people around them clapped Jeff on his back, congratulating him on his stellar performance as the music around them went back to the customary heavy bass. Quinn smiled up at him, to which he returned, flashing his brilliant white teeth. Feeling oddly refreshed by the song, he tugged her toward the other end of the room where he had earlier spotted two familiar faces seated at a table.

When the two blondes approached, they could see that the aforementioned two were not alone. With them sitting in a loose circle were Rachel, Brittany, Santana, Kurt, Artie, Mercedes, and Sam. On the table were several bottles of uncapped vodka and tequila bottles, shot glasses, and a large board game illustrated with numbers and pictures in neat squares. In some of those squares were shot glasses of various sizes, the most square holding three glasses. All the glasses were filled with an amber liquid.

"Dwight, Reed," Jeff called, standing behind two boys. One had a head of dark hair, while the other smaller boy had sandy-brown curly locks. Both of them looked up, eyes hazy with alcohol, but both smiled sloppily all the same. "This is Quinn," he introduced the three. The two Dalton boys grinned up at Quinn.

"Care to join?" the curly-haired boy -Reed- slurred. His face was flushed to the scalp.

Quinn laughed lightly. "No, thank you. I'll just watch." She turned to Jeff who was staring perplexed at the board game. "I know this game," she said, leaning on him. "Look."

He watched Rachel roll the dice into a bowl, its face revealing a three. She then moved a silver token on the board accordingly, landing on a square with a shot glass in it. With much prompting and cheering coming from the other players, Rachel downed the shot with a grimace, whooping drunkenly as she slammed the glass down on the table. The others cheered in response, and then the game continued.

"Each player chooses a token, and they all start there," she said, pointing to a square on the upper left corner where the word 'Start' was stated. "Roll the dice to determine who goes first, then the game starts. You have to do what the instructions on the board tell you to, but you can refuse as well. If you do, well, you're subjected to the group's form of punishment, which can range from stripping yourself naked to TP'ing a neighbour's house."

Jeff gaped. Sam just refused to down three shots, and the group was shouting their own versions punishments at him. "Take your pants off, Evans!" Santana was screeching, tugging at his pants. "No way; make out with Artie!" "Declare your love to someone out on the streets!" Quinn was just laughing at the drunken group of people who were shouting over each other and the thumping music to be heard.

He watched as Reed -little, innocent, _clumsy_ Reed- down three shots one after the other and still manage to sit up straight on the plush footstool. It seemed that while sober, Reed was a walking disaster, but when fuelled with alcohol, he was more coordinated than an acrobat on a unicycle on a suspended wire was. Dwight, however, wasn't as fortunate: he was doubled over his own seat, face planted on the floor, bum up in the air, and whispering sweet nothings to the cement floor while stroking it. Jeff could only guffaw in laughter at the boy.

The blonde watched in fascination at the progress of the game until he felt a tug at his hand; he had almost forgotten that he still held Quinn's hand in his. She tugged at him again, pulling him towards the stairs leading out of the basement. He allowed himself to be led out of the house to the front porch.

Quinn slipped her hand out from his grip and sat on the porch swing, patting the seat beside her, inviting him to join. He did, relishing at the light breeze the air provided, a change of atmosphere from the stuffy and noisy basement. Only a faint thump of music could be heard. She leaned her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

"It's really hot down there," she mumbled.

Jeff didn't reply though he silently agreed. He felt his shirt plastered on his back, slick with perspiration.

Quinn continued. "So. . . Yale, huh?

"Yeah. Got my acceptance letter on the last day of school," he answered her. He took in a breath through his nose, inhaling in the faint scent of her shampoo. 'Mm, vanilla and strawberries,' he thought to himself. 'Wait- how did I know that?' His eyes wandered heavenward. Bright stars scattered among the dark sky, twinkling and sparkling.

She exhaled, her breath tickling the skin on his collarbone. He shivered inwardly. "Your mother must be proud."

He ran a hand through his ruffled blonde hair, exhaling. "I guess; she was happy and gushing and all, but somehow, I knew, deep inside her, that she wanted me to get into her alma mater."

"Harvard."

"Yeah. Dad wanted me to get into Oxford, but I would hear nothing of it. I just didn't want to leave the States, you know? He was disappointed, but he had said that as long as I was happy."

Quinn pushed herself off him, gazing at him. "Are you happy?"

"Right now?" He met her gaze. "I'm on top of the world," he replied with a smile, eyes crinkling at the sides.

"Glad you are," she mumbled, slipping her hand into his as she rested her head on his shoulder again. "I'm happy, too." He could hear the smile in her voice.

The two sat in silence for a long time on the porch swing, rocking back and forth slowly. The breeze around them was cool, but not cold enough for a coat. Quinn suddenly stood up, walking to the steps that led up to the porch, looking out into the streets at the parked cars. She pointed to the Impala. "Whose is that? It looks like someone stole it off the Winchester brothers from _Supernatural_," she giggled.

He joined her at her side. "It's Dwight's," he chuckled. "The thing about Dwight Houston you should know is that, he's more superstitious than anyone on this green Earth. He calls himself a hunter of supernatural beings, ridding them off "for the safety of every inhabitant of this universe." And, he carries rock salt and holy water with him _everywhere_. I can also guarantee you he has at least four talismans on him tonight."

"Is he _insane_?"

Jeff shook his head, chuckling again. "All the Windsor boys are," he said nonchalantly. He added with a mumble, "It's a wonder how Kurt could put up with the crazies when he transferred to Dalton."

"What's with that anyway? Windsor?" she queried.

"Oh, Dalton has three dormitories. Houses, if you will: Windsor, Hanover, and Stuart, which I am a proud occupant of," he explained with a smirk. "We all live by one sacred rule: stand by your house. Windsor and Stuart have an ongoing rivalry with each other since anyone could remember; the two Houses have this unspoken vendetta, to which we both try to overthrow each other.

"The twins, which by unfortunate divine intervention have been bestowed upon my family, have repeatedly snuck into Stuart House so many times that we have to use key cards to get into our dorm rooms. They also replaced our centennial's head with the Pillsbury Dough Boy's." Jeff was ticking the offenses with his fingers at this point. "They replaced our coffee supply with jalapeno sauce, causing uproar among the Stuart boys who were studying late into the night, yours truly included. _And_ they set fire to our parade float which was smouldering for _days_."

Quinn was keeled over in laughter the whole time Jeff was telling her about the Windsor offenses. Her face was red from overexertion, and she was gasping for air. When she tried to speak, she could only manage short gasps. He only smiled thinly.

"Reminiscing, dearest cousin?" a creepily cheerful voice piped up from behind the pair seated on the porch steps. Quinn turned back to see the Brightman twins standing in the shadow of the front door, identical Cheshire grins on their faces.

"Without us?" the other twin continued, voice equally as creepily cheerful.

Jeff, who hadn't bothered to face the twins, replied with a playful scoff. "You're likely to exaggerate the events even more so, _dearest_ cousins."

"Well, _excuse_ us," Evan -or was it Ethan?- dripped sarcastically, dropping his body weight over Jeff. He slumped down at the added weight.

"You just want this beautiful talking flower to yourself!" Ethan -or was it Evan?- whined, also dropping his weight on Quinn, who simply laughed.

Jeff groaned out an explanation to Quinn, unable to speak properly due to the weight on him. "They make Alice in Wonderland references all the time. Apparently, you're beautiful enough to be a talking flower." He pushed the twin off him. The twin on Quinn got off, too, plopping himself next to her while his brother took Jeff's side.

"Kurt is Alice-"

"Blaine's the White Rabbit-"

"Dwight's the White Knight-"

"We call Wes and David-"

"-the March Hare and the Mad Hatter, respectively-"

"Reed is our little Dormouse-"

"-and Logan's the Knave!" The twins explained cheerfully to Quinn, who had a crick in her neck from looking back and forth at the twins so often.

The twin by Quinn's side draped a heavy hand over her shoulders, grinning ear-to-ear. "You're our Jeffers' talking flower now!"

"You take care of your talking flower now, Jeff," the twin by Jeff's side added cheekily. Jeff punched him in the arm. "Ow!" the twin on Quinn's side exclaimed while the one who was punched was rubbing his sore spot.

"Who's Logan?" Quinn spoke up after listening to the twins' Alice in Wonderland referrals to their friends.

"Just another prick-" Ethan mumbled.

"-that we all love to hate." Evan finished.

Jeff groaned, "It's only because the both of you and Windsor give him hell!" He turned to Quinn, face apologetic. "He was my House prefect. Now," he addressed his twin cousins with a warning lacing his words. "Leave."

With a grin and an eyebrow waggle at each other, the twins jumped up from their spots and disappeared through the front door without a word of protest that Jeff thought was strangely odd. The twins usually put up a fight or two before they gave up entirely. He had a bad feeling at the pit of his stomach. He made a grab for Quinn's hand, a questioning look on her face.

"They're up to something." He tugged her up to a stand, glancing back cautiously at the open front door. He could not see anything beyond the darkness, but he knew they were there. Then his eyes widened. "Run!" He pulled her hand, leading her in a run towards the empty street.

"Jeff! What's going on?"

Her questions was left unanswered as she felt something whiz past her head, landing on the road in front of her. It was a foam dart. She could hear loud gleeful whoops and chasing footsteps behind her as she ran in tow with Jeff.

"Oh, no, no, no, no," Jeff was chanting. "They never miss; that was a warning!"

Quinn dared herself to look back only to find the twins running after them, identical Vulcan Nerf guns in their hands. The Tweedles were laughing evilly, picking up their pace. 'This is ridiculous,' she was laughing in her head as she slowed to a stop, Jeff stumbling in the process. She turned to face the twins, hands on her hips.

"We're unarmed, Tweedles!" she shouted at the approaching twins.

They finally caught up to Quinn and Jeff, grins on their faces.

"So it seems. . ." Evan trailed off. He turned to his brother, who nodded.

"That is why we have these." Ethan said. Both pulled out a Stampede each from their back pockets, and handed each to Jeff and Quinn.

"And now. . ." a twin started.

The New Directioner yelled before the other twin could finish his brother's sentence. "_ATTACK_!"

* * *

><p><strong>I hoped you enjoyed part two. Stay tuned for part three of this little ficlet.<strong>

**Note: I would love to hear what you think of this new chapter, so do drop a review, if it's not too much trouble. Please feel free to point of my mistakes and flaws, so that I can improve on my future writing. **

**Thank you for reading! (:**


	3. I Saw Her Standing There

**Here is part three of a five-part Fanfic. As the previous chapter, it was fun writing this out, and I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.**

**I apologise immensely for the lateness of this chapter instead of the usual weekly update. I attended a concert on Saturday night (the time zone might differ), and meant to post it when I arrived home, but it completely slipped my mind! Accept my apologies and many hugs and kisses and Red Vines from me!**

**I do not own anything of Glee; make no money from the stories; the original characters belong to the creators, producers, and scriptwriters. Any events related to real life are purely coincidental. **

**Special appearances by CP Coulter's characters in alphabetical order: Brightman, Ethan; Brightman, Evan.**

**I now present to you part three of _The Beatles: Summer Flings_.**

* * *

><p>"<em>ATTACK!<em>"

Quinn had her Nerf gun raised and trained at a laughing Evan. Beside her, Jeff was doing the same to Ethan, who was already sprinting at the opposite direction, his twin close on his heels.

"Ah, be careful of what you wish for, talking flower," a twin called out with a chuckle as he ran.

His twin finished with a similar chuckle. "You just might get what you have just asked for."

Once the last word left Ethan's mouth, Quinn and Jeff looked at each other with a smile. They made chase and had barely ran past the Fabray residence when the party crowd from her house spilled out to the streets, Nerf guns in their hands as well. War cries could be heard as they barged down the porch steps.

"There they are!" "Get them!" "They're getting away!" the crowd was shouting at the pair chasing after the twins down the road.

Jeff was running next to Quinn, panting with breathlessness. "What did we ever do to them?" He was looking at her with wide doe-like eyes, thoroughly confused at this point.

She replied with a short laugh. "Dunno, but get the twins first!" She increased her speed, glancing back at the stampede that had poured out of her house. "Hurry, Jeff; Wes and David are right behind you!"

As if in response, Wes called out. "Congratulations on your acceptance to Yale, Quinn!" She felt sharp pelts on her back as the Warbler fired opening shots at her. She twisted the top half of her body around, feet still running, as she shot back at her attacker, who ducked. The foam darts had gotten Sam, who was behind Wes, square in the face.

David raised his gun with a cry, as if one would raise a glass for a toast. "To Quinn!" he cried. The roars of agreement that followed were almost deafening. "Now, get them!"

On cue, the group behind Jeff and Quinn opened fire at the two, various forms of ammunition hitting the blonde pair on their backs. The ammunition, consisting of plastic discs and foam darts in an array of colours, that had missed their targets whizzed by, landing on the road ahead. The twins had all but disappeared from the sight of the blondes that were running after them.

"You do realise," Jeff panted beside her. "That it's currently one thirty in the morning, and a crowd of drunk teenagers are chasing us both down the street with freaking Nerf guns?" He turned back and fired shots at the crowd behind. "We're crazy!"

"No kidding," she agreed with a laugh, also turning back to shoot.

He followed the running Quinn, who was leading him and the boisterous crowd behind them to a playground further down the road. The crowd, who were _all_ firing rounds of Nerf ammunition at each other, were shouting and yelling cheerfully at each other, drunk or not. Jeff was surprised that the whole neighbourhood had not yet woken up from their disturbed slumber at the amount of noise the gathering were making to look out to the streets, or worse- call the police.

'I can't believe the twins had brought enough Nerf guns and ammunition to the party,' Jeff grumbled in his head. 'Then again, they're capable of anything.'

"On the count of three, Jeff," Quinn panted softly next to him, cutting him off from his thoughts. "We split up at the fork road ahead; you go right, I take left." She dodged a foam dart. "You take a loop, and you climb up the slides. For God's sakes, take cover, and ambush them!" She was only strategising _now_? He nodded mutely.

"What about you?" he gasped. If he ran anymore farther, he might break a vein in his brain; his heart was pounding so hard, it was impossible for him to hear past his feet thumping on the ground. His athletics didn't include running _this_ fast. Even lacrosse and swimming was better than being chased by a gang of teenagers!

She gave him a sidelong glance that read "_Come on, I'm Quinn Fabray. I should know what I'm doing._" Jeff nodded again, not daring to question the girl right now, at least not with a crowd of teenagers running after them with Nerf guns in their clutches.

"Alright, get ready for it," she mumbled. "1 . . . 2 . . . _Now_!" She all but shoved him toward the direction he was supposed to run to, stumbling a few steps before regaining his composure.

There were shouts of protest from the large group behind as they registered what the blonde pair had done. They scrambled to chase after the two, not caring who followed whom, as long they had their targets in their sights. A smaller group followed Jeff, led by Wes, David and Sam. A larger group that ran after Quinn comprised of the McKinley jocks, including her friends on the McKinley football team.

Jeff watched from his peripheral vision as Quinn mimicked his actions as he ran. He then veered a sharp left where he was faced with a grand structure of a giant slide in the shape of a castle, almost fifteen feet in height, the streetlights illuminating the bright colours of its tall and majestic towers. He quickly picked up his pace, giving him a five-second gap between him and the people chasing him. Immediately locating a flight of stairs that led up to the highest peak of the structure, he took the steps two at a time. A window up there gave him a bird's eye view of the whole park.

"Psst!"

He looked around him, the lights outside allowing him limited vision in the darkness of the structure where he was hiding inside. He noticed a shadowed figure huddled in a corner diagonally from him.

"Quinn?"

"Who else, silly?" She crawled out to his vision in the light. She titled her head to her side and her eyes widened as she came into realization. "I was faster than you!"

That was an embarrassing blow to his male pride. Jeff's face must've reflected his inner thoughts because Quinn just burst out laughing at the expression on his face. She put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Forget it," she said. "It's just a party." She edged to a window overlooking the park below, where she saw their attackers looking around the park for the two of them hiding up in the towered slide.

She could hear them shout at each other. "Where are they?" "They couldn't have gone far." "She was headed this way." "So was he." Jeff joined her at the window, smirking.

"Now, let's get those suckers," she said defiantly as she angled her Nerf gun on the windowsill. There were cries of surprise when Quinn fired a few rounds at her unsuspecting houseguests below. She laughed at their confused expressions as they whipped around, looking for their attacker. Jeff followed suit.

One of her targets, Mercedes, turned around to face Nick, who had his gun aimed at the ready. "Dammit, Nick, did you just _shoot_ me?" Without waiting for an answer, she fired a few rounds at the laughing Warbler. Jeff and Quinn laughed at the scene below them.

"Well, well, well. . ." a pair of identical voices chorused.

"What do we have here?" Evan asked cheerfully as Jeff and Quinn turned around in shock.

"Hiding out from your assailants, are you?" Ethan asked in an equally cheerful tone.

Quinn crossed her arms. "You made them attack us!" she accused.

"Us?" the twins scoffed at the same time. "Impossible!"

"Oh, pretty talking flower!" Ethan put a hand over his heart and flopped dramatically into his brother's ready arms.

"How you wound us with your accusation!" Evan slumped over his twin. Jeff rolled his eyes.

The twins jumped up, faces gleeful again. "Our car _had_ many Nerf guns. . ."

"And we just didn't know what to do with them," Ethan said innocently, eyes wide.

"So we merely distributed them accordingly." Evan grinned.

"Now," they chorused. "Do us a favour, pretty talking flower?" They beckoned to her with a finger to approach them.

Quinn gave them a quizzical face. "What is it?"

Before she could blink, Quinn was bundled into the twins' strong grips and carried towards the opening leading to the massive slide that went all the day down to the ground below. It was quite a height.

"We got her, guys!" the twins yelled out triumphantly from the top of the tower. The crowd below gathered at the foot of the slide, bursting into cheers and applause. Jeff could only watch in horror as his cousins placed the struggling Quinn on the top of the slide and gently pushed her down.

A quarter of the way down the slide, Quinn jumped up to her feet and opened fire at the waiting crowd below, sliding down in her shoes. In that instant, everybody opened fire at each other, laughing. Jeff ran and pushed past his twin cousins, going down the slide after Quinn, providing backup for her. She can't face a group of half-drunk teenagers armed with Nerf guns alone!

The party had officially relocated to the park, turning to a full-fledged Nerf war with and against each other. Everyone was already shooting at each other, original quarry (Quinn) forgotten. Laughter could be heard from the attendees.

From the top of the grand slide, the twins stood side by side and watched the party as proud parents would at their child taking his very first steps by himself. They silently high-fived each other, beaming.

"Our job appears to be done here," Evan nodded.

Ethan returned the nod. "Only until the next event, brother dear." His brother grinned in response.

After what seemed like two hours of a never-ending Nerf war, a shrill wail of a police siren cut through the peels of laughter of the crowd gathered in the park. A black and white patrol car came to a stop by the pavement, and a plainclothes police officer got out of the car.

Some kids were ready to sprint towards the bank of trees until Jeff stopped them with a whispered warning.

"Whatever you do, guys," Jeff said. "Don't run; it'll only bring more trouble to yourselves."

"Screw this; I'm not going back to jail." Puck was already discreetly backing up slowly towards the slide, quickly diving under the plastic moat before the officer had approached the silent shell-shocked group.

"Dad?"

The crowd looked around in confusion. Someone's Dad was a _police officer_? Thad, a fellow Warbler, stepped out from behind the crowd, surprise marring his soft features. "What are you doing here?"

The officer sighed tiredly, running a hand through his already-messy hair. "I received many angry calls from the residents here, Thaddeus, what do you think?" He said with a stoic expression. "And you did tell me you were attending a party here, so I offered to take the call. Just didn't occur to me you would partake in a _Nerf gun fight_ like eight-year old children!" he addressed the whole group this time.

"With all due respect, sir-" The group looked up as the twins slid down the massive slide one after the other.

They came to a stand a few feet deemed respectable in front of the tired officer. "We provided them with the guns."

Chuckling and shaking his head, the officer mumbled to himself, "Ah, the Brightman twins. Should've known."

"Hiya, Officer Harwood!" the twins chorused, beaming.

Quinn stepped forward. "Sir, it's my party. You should hold me responsible."

Shaking his head again, the officer only smiled thinly. "I'm going to let you all off with a warning. No more drinking; oh, yes, I can smell the alcohol from here, guys," he smirked when half the group gasped. Then he pointed to the Nerf guns the twins had gripped in their hands. "No more Nerfing. And, Thad." He turned to his son. "Be home by five, or God so help you, I will get your mother to lock you out." The boy in question only gave his Dad a sheepish smile as the officer strode back to his car.

"Oh, guys," the officer said, poking his head out of the open window of his patrol car. "It's a long drive back to Westerville for the lot of you, so I suggest you make a move now." With that, he sped off down the road with a single glance back at the group through the rear view mirror.

Thad let out a relieved sigh as he watched his father drive away. "You're lucky that it was only my Dad," he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "If it had been his partner, Officer Pebblestone. . ." he trailed off, leaving the others to their imaginations.

"Pebble?" "Stone?" "That's his name?" "First name must be Rocky."

"Alright, alright," Blaine started, ever the peacemaker. He was standing next to a drowsy Kurt who was leaning on the smaller frame of his boyfriend, struggling to keep his eyes open. "So we got away with a slap on the wrist. I think it's time we ended this party before we get into an even bigger trouble." Kurt slumped lower, almost knocking the shorter Warbler over. "Can someone send Kurt home?"

"I will," Mike offered with a wave of his hand up in the air. "Tina looks like she needs her rest anyway." He glanced uncertainly at his laughing girlfriend who was on one end of the teeter-totter with a giggling Rachel on the other end.

Slowly, the crowd dispersed from the playground, bidding each other good night with hugs, kisses, high fives, and pats on the backs. Many clapped a sleepy Kurt on the back, thanking him for throwing a great acceptance party for Quinn. The Dalton boys, who hadn't a clue that it was actually Quinn who had invited them to the party, thanked Jeff for inviting them. Instead of correcting the boys one at a time, he simply smiled, standing next to a grinning Quinn.

Soon, it was only the two of them standing by the pavement of the playground, watching the retreating crowd walk down the street to their cars parked in front of the Fabray residence.

"I'll walk you home?" Jeff asked as he eyed his twin cousins enter their Rolls Royce.

"Sure."

They walked down the road side by side in silence until they reached Jeff's Audi. She leaned against it, looking up at him from beneath her eyelashes.

"So. . ."

"So. . ." he parroted with a nervous laugh. Then: "Thanks for tonight."

She gave him a look of surprise. "You're thanking me? What for?"

"For going out with me, for dealing with my insane cousins." He gestured to the Rolls Royce still unmoved in front of his car. The twins were nowhere to be seen, but Jeff gave it no thought, though he was sure that he saw them enter their car. "And the party." He shrugged nonchalantly. Then he sighed, looking up at the sky. "For tonight, in general," he added with a small smile.

"Jeff," she said with a small laugh. "I'm right here, you know. Don't talk to the sky," He felt her soft hands cup his cheeks, guiding his head down to face her. Her face was inches form his.

Unable to speak due to such close proximity, he was only able to imitate a fish- opening and closing his mouth. 'Should I kiss her? I should kiss her. But what if she doesn't feel the same? Maybe I shouldn't. But should I?'

Quinn watched with intrigue eyes as his own brown ones flicker and glaze over at the internal war he must be having with himself. "Jeff?" she called, snapping her fingers in his face. "Are you okay?"

With another nervous laugh, he finally answered her. "Yeah." He watched her push herself off his car.

"In that case. . ." She enveloped him in a tight hug, resting her head on his chest. Smirking, she listened to his heart beating furiously fast in his ribcage. "You take back your thanks, because _I_ should be the one thanking you for today."

He simply chuckled into her hair in response. "In that case, you're welcome." He wrapped his arms tighter around her small frame.

"Would you look at that, Evan?" An annoyingly cheerful voice disrupted the two. Jeff groaned softly, only audible to Quinn, who just laughed.

"We're ruining their moment, Ethan!" Evan pretended to scold his brother in an equally annoying cheerful voice.

Evan was sitting in the trunk of their car while Ethan leaned against it, next to his brother. In their hands were their Vulcan Nerf guns. Both their faces held identical smirks as they crossed their arms across their chests, eyebrows raised suggestively.

Jeff, still holding a very amused Quinn, glared at his cousins with a look that could very well silence a crying baby. "Disappear. Now," he mouthed to them, who only grinned in response. At the same time, Quinn turned to the Brightman twins. "Hi, guys," she smiled.

"We're going to go now, pretty talking flower," Ethan said dejectedly, head hung low. Evan only nodded sadly in agreement and added, "Jeffers doesn't want us around anymore."

"Bye, Tweedles," Jeff said through gritted teeth.

With a final wave to Quinn, the twins reluctantly started their car and drove away, leaving Jeff a few intimate moments with Quinn before he drove back to Westerville. A honk from them could be heard in the distance just as they rounded the corner leading to the main road.

"Look, you have to go," she whispered to him, sliding her hands off from where they were around his waist. "It's a long drive home for you, and it's already almost four. Your mum will be worried." She smiled up at him.

He chuckled. "Mother doesn't worry. Says she may age faster if she does. I still think it's nonsense." He shrugged lightly.

She smacked him on the arm. "Your mother is lovely! Please thank her for me when you get back later." Her gaze flickered to her house for a second. "Hmm, I should give her something in return," she added absently. "Wait here." She took a tentative step towards her house, but Jeff's hand on her forearm stopped her.

"No, don't, Quinn. She'll only feel like returning you the favour. Besides, let her do this, for you. I think she likes you."

"She does?" She looked at him meekly, eyes wide. She looked like an innocent puppy with those pleading eyes, and it made his heart flutter.

His head bobbed up and down. "Yes. Remember when Pascal warned me to be careful? Earlier in the bistro?" She nodded. "It was a message from Mother." The small smile he gave her was a sad one; it didn't reach his eyes, and they didn't sparkle like they usually did when he was laughing and being cheerful. He didn't even meet her eyes, instead choosing to look past her, gazing up at the sky. Again.

Quinn didn't dare to press any further, but she was dead curious to find out more. She frowned. She didn't like to see Jeff upset, though she had never really seen the Warbler sad before; they just weren't as close before as they are now. 'No,' she decided. 'I don't want to see him unhappy. The Jeff I know smiles and laughs a lot, and gets excited easily. _That's_ the Jeff I like.'

She cupped his cheek with a hand, smiling softly up at him. "Listen, forget about it. It being whatever that has happened before that your mother has to warn you to be careful. I'm- I'm not saying you shouldn't heed your mother's words, but you don't have to tell me. At least, not now. When you're ready, I mean." She quickly slapped a hand over her mouth. "I'm babbling," she explained, eyes wide.

He gently tugged her wrist away. "You're adorable," he chuckled.

"Pardon?" She gave him a look of shock.

"I-I-I have to go now; it's late," he mumbled, turning away. 'Hell, did I just _say_ that? I did _not_ just say that. She probably thinks I'm mad right n-'

His thoughts were silenced when she wrapped him in another tight embrace. "Forget it," she murmured. Her grip around his waist tightened.

"Goodnight, Quinn." He pressed his cheek against her hair. Yep, definitely vanilla and strawberries.

She let him go after another hug and stepped back to watch him enter his car and drive off, unmoving until he turned the corner. After a moment, she went into her house, intending to clean up the party mess in the basement before her mother could throw a fit when she got home in the morning.

Upon entering the vast room, the sight that greeted her was not a pleasant one. Crushed plastic cups were strewn about everywhere; there were empty glass bottles toppled over as if someone had been using them as bowling pins, and the amount of _rubbish_. Quinn didn't even want to inspect if the odd-coloured puddle in a corner of the room was a mixer or actual vomit. Sighing, she got two large plastic trash bins to clean up.

"Ugh," she groaned aloud. She found a pair of lacy underwear stuffed between the sofa cushions. Someone out there is stumbling around without her _underwear_. "Don't think about it, Fabray. Don't think about it," she chanted under her breath as she gingerly tossed the undergarment into the trash with the fingernails of her index finger and thumb.

It took well over an hour and a half for the petite blonde to clean up the basement and rid the room of the alcoholic tang that seemed to linger in the air by herself. She rewarded herself with a long shower after that, allowing the scalding hot water to relax the tense muscles of the full day she had.

What had started as another boring summer day turned out to be something out-of-the-box for one Quinn Fabray. 'From an early dinner with Jeff Sterling to a totally spontaneous Nerf war with my closest friends, it was _definitely_ a day well spent,' Quinn smiled to herself as she sat in her bed in her pyjamas of an oversized T-shirt and shorts, applying scented lotion on her legs and arms. 'Best way to spend my last summer as a high school senior, I s'pose.'

She glanced at her digital clock by her beside. Its large red numbers informed her that it was already 5.49AM. Her body responded tiredly as she released a huge yawn that she tried to stifle it with a fist to her mouth. She then fell into a well-deserved fitful sleep as soon as her head hit the pillows: she was that tired.

That night (or morning), she dreamt about what Jeff had said to her before he left for home in his car. He had said that she was adorable. When she woke up after some five hours of sleep with a fuzzy feeling at the pit of her tummy, she couldn't help shake off the feeling that her subconscious was trying to tell her something through the dream. Something that she wasn't yet ready to acknowledge so soon into, well, whatever she and Jeff had.

"The borderline of a friendship and a romantic relationship," she heard herself mumble aloud as she pushed herself up to lean against the headboard of her bed. "Huh."

Quinn knew something was going to happen in the course of a few days, if not weeks; she had been in many a relationship to see the signs. She even thought she was in love with Finn Hudson and Sam Evans at one point of her relationships with them, but in the end, she realized, it was really her insecurities that lost them both to better girls. She hugged her knees to her chest as she revelled in the past.

The Quinn now finally came to realise what she had done wrong in the years prior. She had so selfishly pushed the blame on to everyone else, thinking she was never in the wrong in the first place, not once accepting the fact that on some occasions, the fault was all hers. Whatever she did was purely for her own selfish purposes, never once caring who she had to hurt in the process of getting what she wanted.

She had blamed Puck for impregnating her, but in actual truth, she had _allowed_ herself to get drunk on those stupid wine coolers and do the deed with him. She had, in fact, known what kind of person Noah Puckerman was like as a person, but at the end of the day, she had cheated on Finn, and got knocked up as a result of it. It was that point in her life where everything was going downhill.

When she was dating Finn, she only sought out for popularity and fame among their peers. She only needed him to make her look good, if not better, in front of the whole school: the head cheerleader dating the lead quarterback of the school. The old Quinn had manipulated him, used him, pushed him around to do her bidding, and even tried to force the responsibility of being a father to her illegitimate child. She had blamed him for her damaged status and reputation when he ended things with her to be with Rachel.

Perhaps, dating Sam Evans was the next best thing she had to an actual, _real _relationship. Sam was nothing but caring and supportive and even loving towards her, even to the extent of proposing to her with a promise ring to always be there for her no matte what. Sure, he might've been eaten up by the big bad green-eyed monster a few times in the duration of their relationship, but his intentions, at the end of the day, were true, and his suspicions were confirmed when the Glee club found out that Quinn had cheated on him with Finn and had gotten mono in the end.

Then there was the 'skank' phase of her life when she returned to school after last summer with pink hair and clothes that didn't suit her _at all_. It had been so hard for her to walk past the people she used to call her friends in the hallways and pretend that she hated them. It had hurt her the most knowing that this new personality of hers pretended that she didn't belong with the New Directions anymore, instead choosing to hang out under the bleachers with the other 'skanks.' What she wanted to do the minute she entered the doors of school was sing. To sing her heart out, but she couldn't, simply because she was the 'new' Quinn Fabray who smoked cigarettes, whose swearing could make a pirate blush, who dated a 40-year old skateboarder.

The present Quinn now got off her bed -strangely refreshed considering the amount of sleep she'd gotten- and shuffled to the bathroom for her daily morning routine. Just as she was stepping in to the showers, she heard her phone ringing faintly in the bedroom. She entered the shower stall, deciding to ignore the caller; she simply could call back after she was done. 'No point going out of my routine just to answer one dumb call,' she thought, shrugging.

She entered her adjacent bedroom after her shower and put on the necessary undergarments on before reaching for her phone, which rang again just as she was about to check who had called her before she stepped into the showers. The caller ID informed Quinn that it was an unknown caller, with the number blocked from being identified. She answered the call with a frown.

"Hello, Quinn Fabray speaking," she spoke, clamping the phone between her ear and shoulder in attempts to towel-dry her hair at the same time.

The caller on the other end let out a loud sigh of relief into the receiver as he laughed. "Oh, I was so scared that I'd actually gotten the wrong number. You didn't answer the first time I rang, so I was so close to giving up, but then they said I should try again." He was talking at a rapid speed, Quinn barely able to catch what he was saying. "Then again, you didn't have my number before-" he suddenly stopped babbling as he came into realisation. "You- you have no idea who I am, do you?"

The frown on her face deepened. "No. Who _are_ you? And how exactly did you get my number?" she demanded. "Are you _stalking_ me?"

"Look outside your window," was all the caller said.

Quinn's heartbeat quickened as she hastily threw on a yellow tank top and a pair of denim shorts. If this guy was in her backyard watching her walk around her room in her underwear, then she was ready to throttle him to a pulp. 'This is downright creepy,' she thought as a shiver ran down her spine.

Cautiously creeping towards the windows, still clutching her phone to her ear to make sure the creeper was still on the other end, she slowly peeled back a corner of the lace curtains as discreetly as possible to take a peek out. Groaning in relief, she threw back all of her curtains and screamed into her phone:

"You idiot! I thought you were a stalker!" She quickly hung up the phone with a quick flip and tossed it on her bed before dashing downstairs to greet her visitor.

She found him sitting on one of the chairs of the patio dining set, fiddling with his Blackberry nervously. He was dressed casually in a blue-checkered shirt over a plain white T-shirt and three quarter cargo pants. Hooked on the collar of his T-shirt was a pair of blue framed sunglasses.

"Didn't take you as a creeper, Sterling," Quinn said with a defiant smirk, leaning on the doorjamb of the back door, arms folded across her chest.

He whirled around in surprise, face then morphing to a happy grin. "It totally wasn't my intention to stalk you." He held up his hands up innocently as if in surrender. "And I have a legitimate reason to come here today." She still had her arms crossed as she raised a questioning eyebrow at him, waiting for him to continue his explanation. Jeff nervously rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling a bit.

"Wanna know how I got your number first?" he grinned sheepishly at her.

"Sure," she rolled her eyes, a small smile playing on her lips. She gaze flickered to her kitchen momentarily, a thought in her mind. "Did you- Did you come here once you woke up?" Her eyes narrowed, head tilted.

He looked at her with uncertainty in his brown eyes. "Uhh, of course not. I took a shower first, then I brushed my teeth, talked to my mother for a bit, kissed her goodbye- and you probably didn't have to know that," he rambling trailed off, cheeks tinted a furious red. He widened his eyes at her and quickly averted his gaze from hers, but he could see that she was about to burst out laughing because her eyes held the usual sparkle she had before she let out a snorting laugh.

And burst out guffawing she did. "Oh, Jeff," she sighed, breathless from the laughter. "You're such a Mummy's boy, and a dork."

"Hey! I'm not a dork!" he protested with a pout.

She turned to enter the kitchen, still giggling. "I'll get us some breakfast. Cereal sound okay to you?" He nodded meekly, still afraid to look her in the eye. "Come on in, then," she invited him in.

Jeff followed her into the kitchen and perched on a stool on the island counter, watching the blonde girl get the necessary utensils from the kitchen cupboards and setting them on the counter in front of him. She paused at the open refrigerator door, turning back to him. "We have plain milk and chocolate milk. Which one do you prefer?"

"Chocolate. I hate plain," he absently replied her.

She raised an eyebrow at him, placing the carton of chocolate milk by the bowls. "You eat your cereal with chocolate milk?"

"Yeah," he shrugged. "Strawberry more, but if chocolate's all you have. . ." he trailed off.

"We have Cheerios and Lucky Charms," Quinn said into the cupboard she held open that contained the cereal boxes. "Apple cinnamon and banana nut."

"Lucky Charms."

She returned to the island counter with the Lucky Charms, propping herself up on a stool. She gave him another quizzical look. "So you eat Lucky Charms with chocolate milk?" She passed him the box of cereal after pouring herself a portion, then adding in the milk.

"Yeah, why not?" He was already going scarfing down his own breakfast, having already poured in the milk before the cereal.

She shook her head, turning to her own bowl. "Nothing," she shrugged. "I do, too. So tell me what you're doing here." She really was curious, seeing as it was barely seven hours ago that he left her house.

"You left your Beatles record in my car," he grinned sheepishly.

Eyebrow still raised, she huffed, "Huh." She almost kicked herself internally at her forgetfulness, but instead of showing even a _hint_ of embarrassment, she kept her composure. "And where is this record in question?"

The response was the cheekiest grin she had ever saw on him. Even from where she was sitting across from him, she could still see the mischievous glint in his eyes, quite similar to the sparkle the twins usually had when she had met them last night.

"Well?" She waited for her answer.

"Well, you see, Mother saw it in my car this morning, and I had to explain to her what it was doing there, because -and I quote- "I absolutely _adore_ The Beatles. But what is an old record doing in your car?"" He was speaking in a high-pitched tone, flipping a hand absently, mimicking the exact actions his mother did that morning. He regained his composure and continued in a normal voice: "I told her you checked it out of the library yesterday."

"And?" She was even more amused by the second as she watched and listened to Jeff's explanation.

"And," he repeated after her, before sighing. He looked up at her with pleading innocent eyes. "She wants you to come 'round our place."

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><p><strong>I hoped you enjoyed part three of this little ficlet. Do wait for part four to this little story, where we get to see the Sterling residence.<strong>

**Note: Tell what you've thought about part three; I would love to hear from you all. Do drop a review, to let me know if you've loved it or hated it. Anything to improve on my writing in the future. **

**Thank you for reading! (:**


	4. Imagine

**Here is part four of a five-part Fanfic. This has been a hard chapter to write, as I've been suffering from a bout of writer's block - every writer's nightmare! It was horrible, and I had to draw inspirations from various movies and songs to help me go through with this. **

**I do not own anything of Glee; make no money from the stories; the original characters belong to the creators, producers, and scriptwriters. Any events related to real life are purely coincidental. **

**I now present to you part four of _The Beatles: Summer Flings_.**

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><p>With pleading innocent eyes, he said, "She wants you to come 'round our place."<p>

She gave him a cheery smile. "Sure!"

"R-R-Really?" he was stuttering.

"Yeah, why not? I have to admit, I did forget all about my record, but I _did_ check it out, and I'd like a listen to it before returning it, y'know?" she said animatedly. "I should show you the gramo!"

Her unusual cheerfulness unsettled him. In all of the two years in acquaintance with her, he had never seen her so chipper and pleasant, despite the fact that he had barely spent more than two hours with her throughout the course of knowing her -up until yesterday. Their brief friendship and hangouts at the Lima Bean with their respective groups, -the New Directions and the Warblers- she had been quiet and reserved, and mostly kept to herself, only speaking when spoken to.

"Just let me get changed, then we'll go, alright?" she asked him, her invitation to check out her old gramophone forgotten. She took their bowls, drained and rinsed them in the sink, and loaded them into the dishwasher. He was just watching her from where he sat, and watched her as she dashed up the service stairs by the kitchen, hearing a door slam once she was upstairs.

In her bedroom, she quickly threw on a white cardigan over a light blue sundress and white ballet flats and applied minimal make up, light enough for a natural look. 'Don't want to look too over-the-top,' she mused as she put on a layer of lip gloss.

Quinn didn't dare to admit aloud to Jeff that she really was fond of Clara Sterling, no matter how brief the introduction was. She reminded Quinn of her own mother when she was younger: a more vibrant and energetic character, something Quinn looked for in herself, but it was socially unacceptable for her in high school. No one ever got to be the Queen Bee in the best years of their teenage lives simply by being _nice_.

Satisfied with her appearance, she dashed down the main stairs to find the Warbler patiently waiting for her, inspecting a framed picture hung on a wall in the hallway by the front door.

"I really can't make out this painting. Can't tell if it's a bear, or a brown smudge," he absently addressed the painting when he heard her walk down the stairs. As she descended, he took a glance at her, and his heart just started pounding furiously in his chest. Though he had seen her like this many times, this was the first time he ever felt something funny fluttering in his tummy.

His response was a tinkle of laughter. "Actually, it's a coffee stain. I was opening the front door with a cup of coffee in hand, and a cat just sprinted through the house."

"Funny," he snickered. "Didn't take you for an artistic kind of person."

She lightly hit him on the arm. "Oh, you're hilarious, you know that?" she said, sneering playfully.

"I try my best," he winked at her. "Shall we?" He swept an arm dramatically to the front door.

She locked up the door behind her as Jeff walked over to his car. But when she turned around, it wasn't his black Audi that she had expected. A sleek two-door, cherry red Ferrari 599 GTB Fiorano was parked by the pavement, and he was just holding the passenger side door open for her casually.

Feigning indifference, she asked with a curious tilt of her head. "Didn't you drive a black car last night?"

He chuckled nonchalantly. "It's Mother's. She "insisted that I _must_ take the car, dear" because she thought mine "needed a wash."" He quoted his mother with air quotes by his head cheekily, rolling his eyes. "Full of nonsense, my mother is, 'cause I know she just wanted to check if you had left any traces of your being in my car."

She understood what he had meant. Nodding, she said, "If that's the only means of transportation to get my record back, then drive on, my good man!" She dramatically swooped down the steps and into his car, leaving the laughing Jeff to shut the door after her.

Upon starting the engine, the music player -which obviously wasn't switched off before he killed the engine when he arrived- blared out familiar music, startling the blonde in the passenger seat.

"This is yours?" she questioned excitedly. She flipped through the CD cases in the glove compartment. The selections were only limited to music from the 60s and 70s, mostly comprising of complete albums from The Beatles. "This is fantastic!" she exclaimed happily. "_Please, Please Me_; _Revolver_; oh, my gosh! _Abbey Road_; and _Let It Be_!" She angled her body to face him better. "I didn't know you were a Beatles fan, too!"

He gave her a smirk as he took a corner. "You've forgotten about the wee fact that this is my mother's car, Fabray. Everything in here is hers, well, except you." from his peripheral vision, he saw her face fall for a split second in embarrassment, but she quickly recollected herself.

"I guess I got a little too excited there," she apologised in a small voice.

"If it makes you feel any better, I _am_ a Beatles fan," he shrugged. "Here," he nodded. "Sing this for me; I bet you could knock this one right out of the park." He gave her a playful wink and slipped in a CD.

Her eyes widened then narrowed at him accusingly when she recognised the instrumental opening of the song. "How'd you know this is one of my favourite songs?"

Jeff's face coloured to the scalp. He tried to answer her question the best he could, but the best he could manage was a stammer. "I- You- The song- Actually-"

She burst out laughing. "Relax, Sterling," she said gently, putting a reassuring hand on his arm. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in a slow huff, cheeks puffing out. "It just seemed like it's everyone's song, you know, _Imagine_," he explained with a shrug. "It's beautiful."

She smiled brightly at him, white teeth flashing. "Couldn't have said it any better myself." Then she looked out the window, humming along to the song playing in the background. Turning to him, she asked sweetly, "Sing with me?"

With a shrug, he said, "Sure." Together, they sang the chorus of the song when it came on, voices melding in sync:

_You may say I'm a dreamer, __  
><em>_But I'm not the only one.__  
><em>_I hope someday you'll join us,__  
><em>_And the world will live as one._

_Imagine no possessions;  
>I wonder if you can,<br>No need for greed or hunger,  
>A brotherhood of ma;,<br>Imagine all the people,  
>Sharing all the world.<em>

You may say I'm a dreamer,  
>But I'm not the only one;<br>I hope someday you'll join us,  
>And the world will live as one.<p>

At the closing of the song, he sighed almost wistfully, gripping the steering wheel a bit tighter. Quinn, having noticed his tensing up, was just about to ask if he was all right when he suddenly spoke up.

"You know, about last night? I was about to tell you why my mother told me to be careful?" He saw her nod from the corner of his eyes. "Well," he sighed. She could see that he was fighting with himself again in his head; his facial expression was contorted in a combination of contemplation, confusion and a hint of nervousness.

She felt bad for pressuring him to tell her now. Placing a gentle and reassuring hand on his shoulder, she said, "Hey, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"No, no, no. I want to; I just don't know how to put it in words, let alone where to start." He was shaking his head slowly.

She gave him a sympathetic look. "The beginning; people usually start from the beginning," she nodded, trying to be gentle and encouraging at the same time.

"Uhh, yeah, I s'pose that's a good start," he mumbled, laughing nervously. "Let's see, uhh, Mother, you see, she's quite a good judge of character, though she wouldn't ever admit it; she never was one to say "I told you so" when she's right, which is most of the time. She gives you enough space to revel in your thoughts after that, to think about what she had warned you before. That's her way of guilt tripping you, I guess," he added with a shrug. "Like reverse psychology, you know?

She nodded. "Is that why she told you to be careful? So that you wouldn't be hurt by me?"

He hesitated, then nodded. "When I say she's a good judge of character, I mean she can read people so easily that it's almost scary. But you, you're another story altogether." Jeff received a confused look from his passenger before continuing with a laugh. "Don't look so scared. It's partially a good thing, you know. Mother couldn't read you properly when she first met you, but I could tell immediately that she took a liking towards you.

"When she was whispering to me at the café, you remember that? She wanted to see how you'd react to her slipping me that hundred and me taking you out to dinner. You see, the girls my mother has met before you had quickly jumped at the chance to date me."

"For your money," Quinn stated bluntly.

"Yeah. When you didn't react the way she expected you to, she started to doubt you, but when she saw your Beatles record in my car. . ." he trailed off. "Simply put, all -and I do mean _all_- the girls I've ever dated only ever went out with me for my money."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "We're dating?"

The statement threw Jeff completely off guard; it wasn't the answer he had expected from her. He had actually been waiting for a "I'm not after your money" or a "I'm not that type of girl" kind of response, the exact same lines his previous girlfriends have said to him when he suspected them of dating him because of his money. But this- this one was way off his prepared script he had rehearsed in his head. And for the second time that morning, -or afternoon, whatever- Jeff Sterling was at a loss for an answer.

"Are- are we? I don't know. I- I- I just assumed that- O- Okay, I'll shut up now," he spoke timidly, eyes trained on the road straight ahead. His cheeks were a shade of red that Quinn thought impossible to reach on a normal human being; he was blushing that much. So much so that she had to let out a little giggle, which earned her a look of bemusement.

After a moment of awkward silence, -at least to Jeff it was awkward- Quinn spoke up. "I don't know." She was frowning. "We've only been out twice." She looked out the window, having only noticed that the houses on either sides of the road have spaced out entirely, each house separated by a margin of forest until the next one appeared. As they drove, she also noticed each house were bigger than the last. "Where are we, Jeff?"

He had an apprehensive look on his face, but it immediately brightened up as he took a corner, his body relaxing against his seat. "We're nearby my place!" With that said, he slowed the car to a stop in front of a wrought iron gate, in which a large modernised mansion stood.

From where Quinn was seated in the car, she could see that the long gravel driveway led up to a roundabout, where a fountain was spewing out water. The gardens around it boasted a variety of brightly coloured flowers, shady oak and pine trees alike lined the outer walls surrounding the compound. The mansion was a sprawling structure in itself; it was a khaki-coloured bricked structure, painted with a white trim. Windows aligned horizontally across the facade, spaced out symmetrically without looking too cramped. A large domed room protruded from the middle of the structure, its ceiling to floor windows revealing the room within. If Quinn's vision didn't betray her, she swore there was a helicopter on the roof of the house.

Jeff drove through the iron gates and parked by the double doors. "My humble abode, fair maiden," he said with a sweeping bow when he opened the passenger side door for her. She couldn't help but giggle as she stepped out, head bent back, appraising the structure; the house looked even more impressive up close.

As if on cue, the large doors opened, and a woman who looked to be in her early 50s dressed in a French maid's uniform greeted them both with a polite nod.

"Ah, Madame Isobel! Tell _maman_ we've arrived, and please, _please_ tell her to return Quinn's record. _Merci__beaucoup_!" Jeff said cheerily to the maid, who briskly turned and walked away after giving a single nod to him and a tight smile to Quinn.

They were standing in the grand foyer. A large round wooden table stood in the middle of the room, with a massive flower bouquet serving as the centrepiece. A grand staircase led up to the first floor where it split to two hallways to the left and the right. Upon closer inspection, she could see that there were elaborate carvings along the wooden banister of the staircase, with what she presumed was the Sterling emblem hand-carved at random intervals.

Jeff turned to his guest and whispered, "Woman of a few words, Isobel is. She's been my mother's nanny for when Mother was in France as a child and have stuck by her ever since. Oh, err, this way." He gestured to the left of the foyer, leading her through an arch. "Motherly as well as practical; she cooks, she cleans, she manages the house and the other staff, she does everything! And yet," he trailed off, looking around conspicuously then shaking his head from side to side slowly.

"What?" She was following him down a long hallway line with many closed doors.

He threw up his hands in exasperation. "She wouldn't accept a cent! Except for groceries and necessities, of course. That's woman's a drone, I tell you!" he whispered to her, leaning close. "Works through the day, knits part of the night, repeat process everyday." He was ticking off the activities on his fingers.

They finally walked into a bright kitchen with endless streams of sunlight filtering through the large windows that overlooked the surrounding garden. Quinn decided that this was the most picturesque house she has ever been in; everything seemed to be conjured straight out of a fairytale storybook, or at least a catalogue magazine from a Beverly Hills architecture magazine.

"She just sounds diligent," Quinn shrugged, sitting on a bar stool by the island counter.

"Yeah, but-"

"Oh, shush, you. Eighteen years of being around her, and your mind's just about made up about her being a robot," she scolded playfully. "You sound like an excited eight-year-old who has just seen the first _Transformers_ movie and thinks every vehicle on the road is going to save the world," she added with a laugh. "I'm only surprised your car's not yellow."

He gave her a pout. "Except Decepticons; they're evil!" He waved his arms in the air to emphasise his point.

Quinn simply rolled his eyes at him when she heard someone walk into the room. She turned to see Clara Sterling clad in a casual pink tank top paired with a white gypsy skirt. Just as they had met for the first time, her wrists were decked with bangles of varying sizes and colours. The only difference this time was her hair: it hung down in golden waves, past her shoulders and ended near her lower back. There was a single headband holding her fringe back.

"Quinnie, dear! Welcome to the Sterling estate!" the elderly woman said, sweeping the former in a tight hug. "Oh, my goodness, dear me, you're terribly skinny, dear!" she cried almost dramatically. She was holding Quinn at an arm's length, eyes narrowed. "You poor thing; have my little Jeffers not been feeding you enough?" Mrs Sterling turned to her son with a stern look.

The New Directioner could only laugh in response at the flustered woman. "No, Mrs St- I mean, Clara," she corrected herself quickly before Mrs Sterling could give a reaction. "I've been eating; it's just that my metabolism is really high" was her simple explanation. She'd very much prefer Jeff to be well and alive by the end of the day, and not be verbally murdered by his slightly over energetic mother.

"So, has my sweet darling negligent son shown you around? No?" she asked, receiving a shake of Quinn's head. She turned to Jeff again. "Have I not taught you any manners, Jeffery? Oh, how you break my heart!" Mrs Sterling clasped a hand to her heart, looking crestfallen.

"It's not worry at all, Clara. I don't want to trouble anyone, least of all either of you," Quinn smiled brightly at the matriarch of the house. Mrs Sterling seemed to be mentally scolding her son from across the room, a frown marring her beautiful and sharp features. He was giving his mother a wide-eyed doleful look, clueless at what she was trying to mentally portray to him.

Jeff finally groaned, throwing up his hands. "I'll show her around later, okay, Mother?" His outburst seemed to please his mother, because the latter immediately brightened up again, nodding excitedly. "So, we're here for you to return Quinn's record? Mother?"

"Mrs Sterling?" Quinn called. She passed a hand in front of her vacant expression but received no response. "Clara?"

Mrs Sterling appeared to be staring into space, just above Quinn's head. The younger blonde turned around to see what was so interesting, but saw nothing but a row of kitchen cabinets. Jeff, already used to his mother spacing out in the middle of conversations, made to move in front of his mother, snapping his fingers in front of her glazed-over brown eyes. With a jolt, her gaze refocused onto the younger pair in front of her.

"Oh, have I done it again, Jeff?" Mrs Sterling mumbled, rubbing her temples with the tips of her manicured fingers. "I'm so sorry, Quinnie, dear; I just had a revelation regarding my research. I must dash now, before I forget, so I'll catch up with the both of you later. Toodle-doo, my darlings!" She air-kissed Quinn and Jeff respectively and practically skipped out of the kitchen. "Record's in your room, Jeff darling!" she called.

The two who were left standing in the kitchen could only burst out in laughter after Mrs Sterling left. Jeff was the first to recover. Sighing, "That's my mother for you. I _could_ apologise on behalf of her, but she's just that way."

"Oh, no, don't apologise," Quinn said lightly, brushing him off. "I like your mother; she's lovely."

"Lovely, right. Eccentric, more like," he snorted. "Right!" he suddenly yelled and clapped his hands once, causing her to jump. "Record's in my room. Let us go get it, and get out of here. I'm feeling peckish for some ice cream." He rubbed his clasped hands together, licking his lips. "Let's go!"

She trailed after him through the hall with the closed doors, back to the grand foyer, up the marble staircase, and down the corridor on the right. "But you haven't even had lunch yet, Sterling," she informed him flatly. He was way ahead of her and couldn't hear her, because she didn't receive any form of response- not even a grunt. Trying again after a while, she huffed, "Why is your room so _far_?"

They had passed a many open doors down the length of the corridor. So far, Quinn noticed a study, complete with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with volumes of books; a padded and carpeted room with a keyboard and a selection of guitars within; and a room what seemed to serve as an entertainment room of sorts, complete with what Quinn could identify as a projector screen, a few game consoles lying on a wooden dais, and _was that a popcorn cart_? She strayed from her host, and walked into the room.

The whole room was panelled with a rich-smelling glossy wood. The walls were bare, except for a lone framed photograph of the Dalton Academy Warblers hanging between two main windows that overlooked the pool. On the floor was a massive white fuzzy carpet, which seemed to eat up to her ankles with each step she took further into the room. There was a long couch placed a few feet from the dais, made to fit at least six to seven people with colourful mismatched plush cushion casually scattered on and by the couch. The projector itself hung from the ceiling above. At the back of the room, there was a foosball table, a pool table, and an air hockey table.

"That _is_ a popcorn cart," she murmured to herself, inching closer to it.

"You know," Jeff said, voice filling the room, startling her. Quinn whipped around in surprise to find him leaning on the doorjamb. "You shouldn't wander. This part of the house has been laid with forgotten traps I've elaborately planned out." He nodded towards the cart. "I only use that when I've guests over," he explained. "Doesn't happen much now, what with college happening and all." He looked away almost wistfully.

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to stray. It's just that I saw- I was curious, and the-" she was stammering, having no excuse to rudely walk into a room without being invited in properly and getting caught in the act. She flushed, quickly sidestepping him out to the hallway while offering him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry," she simple mumbled.

He chuckled. "Don't worry about it; you were simply curious. Just be careful, alright?" He gestured for her to walk with him this time, taking her hand in his.

She gave him a sidelong glance. "What traps were you talking about?"

He picked up and dropped a shoulder. "Evan and Ethan sometimes come over, and they've gotten me in my own house for far too many times. This wing-" He raised his free hand, sweeping it along the corridor walls. "-is my part of the house. So, certain rooms are booby-trapped," he explained. Suddenly, he stopped in front of a section of a wall at the end of the hallway.

"That sounds dangerous," Quinn frowned. Just noticing that they had stopped, she glanced around, finding no doors within the vicinity. "Uhh, where's your room?"

"Here." He took out an old brass key from his pants pocket and slipped it into a keyhole so miniscule and hidden on the wall. The door revealed itself when Jeff pushed it back. His room door blended it with the hallway walls!

"Close your mouth, Quinn," he chuckled, gently pushing her lower jaw up to a close. "Come on in, then." He was already halfway into his room.

His bedroom was of a rustic yet modern theme. Like the entertainment room, the whole bedroom was panelled with a rich dark wood. Antique and modern furniture decorated the room without clashing horribly, but instead complemented each other well for both old and modern tastes alike. A king-sized bed was positioned on the far right of the room, between two wall lamps. Bedside tables stood resolutely by the bed. On the far left of the room was a flat screen television mounted on the wall. A couch was positioned in front of it. A set of matching antique dresser, chest-of-drawers, and a study table were place strategically in the room. A door by the balcony must lead to the bathroom. Other than that, the room was sparse.

"Ah, here it is!" Jeff exclaimed, brandishing the record from his study table. He turned around in time to see Quinn disappear through the balcony doors. He followed her. "Quinn?"

She gave him a small smile before turning back to the expansive view of the swimming pool. The cool summer breeze tousled up their hair and whipped their clothes around. Then she said, "You have a very gorgeous house. It's like one out of a magazine."

"Yeah, well, Mother had a lot of time in her hands when Dad bought this place for us. She simply took it upon herself to make this place a little bit more habitable, even though she and the staff are the only permanent occupants year round."

A questioning look crossed her features. "Why? Don't you stay here, too?" She queried with a small frown. He touched the scrunched up worry lines on her forehead, smoothing them down with a gentle rub of his thumb.

"Only during part of the school holidays. Otherwise, I have a dorm room in Dalton. Stuart, remember?" he grinned, tapping his temple. He slung an arm over her shoulder and steered her back into his room. "Can we now pleaseeeee go for some ice cream now?" he begged with a pout, dragging out the word 'please.' His brown eyes glinted with mischievousness, and he was looking at her with the most pitiful puppy dog look she'd ever received from a guy, so much so that she could only laugh and nod her head mutely.

Jeff's face brightened up immediately and he bounced up and down in glee, clapping his hands just like a five-year-old. "I'm driving!" he yelled, running ahead out of his bedroom. Quinn could only laugh harder and walk after him to the car.

In the place of the Ferrari where he had parked earlier was his Audi. According to the gardener, his mother had "taken her car to the Westerville library and will not be back until late." Jeff then thanked the gardener and opened the car door for Quinn to enter.

Once in the car, he sped off towards where Quinn suspected was the commercial part of Westerville. There was a mall and a separate block of shop lots that served as a massive food court. He drove around the corner, past the commercial buildings and came to a stop at a dead end.

The dead end, or so Quinn had thought, was actually a cliff side overlooking all of Westerville. There was a lone simple brownstone shop by the lookout point, its signage faded and almost incomprehensible. Quinn could barely make out the words 'ice cream parlour' in faded purple.

"This is the furthest part of town, which happens to be the most beautiful spot to be at night in all of Ohio, in my books, at least," Jeff explained with a grin. "I've heard that many Dalton boys bring their first dates there-" He pointed to the mall. "For a movie and dinner, then bring them here-" He spread his arms wide open at the expansive view. "For some romantic time," he said, waggling his eyebrows at an amused Quinn.

"But you and I had our fist date at some overpriced French bistro with some brownnosing French staff who through we were eating for free, didn't we?" He gave her a wink. She could only laugh at his humorous sarcasm. "And now, ice cream!" He grabbed her hand and jogged to the lone building by the lookout point.

A bell jingled overhead as they entered, causing a few patrons in the premise to look up. The parlour itself had a rustic charm to it: mismatched chairs and tables were arranged neatly while high stools and wooden bars lined the left and right sides of the parlour. The counter was also wooden, and the cash register was one of the old iron ones, large and heavy. The only modern touch to the place was the ice cream machine and the displays by the counter. Even the menus hanging from the ceiling over the counter were handwritten and decorated on fancy cardboard.

"Jeffy!" A little girl about four ran out from behind the counter and wrapped his legs in a hug. Her pigtails bounced on her head as she buried her face in a shin. "Come see me?" she asked, head bent back ninety degrees to look up at him with big brown eyes.

Laughing, the Warbler picked up the girl and swung her around once. She squealed in delight. "Indeed I have, Frieda. And I've brought someone with me," he said to the brunette girl in his arms.

The child turned with interested eyes to Quinn, who smiled warmly and waved her fingers. "Hello, Frieda. My name is Quinn."

Frieda turned to Jeff with eyes so wide that it just might pop out from their sockets. Cupping her small hands around his ear, she whispered (but failed) to him. "She's real pretty; I like her."

'Ah, the innocence of a child!' Quinn thought to herself as she walked to the counter, leaving the two with a few moments of privacy. 'I can't wait until Beth is like that.' She managed to catch Jeff saying, "Yes, she is beautiful, isn't she, Frieda? I like her very much, too." Quinn flushed and could feel blood rushing to her face. Thank goodness he couldn't see how red she was!

A woman in her late thirties came out from a door behind the counter. Smiling to Quinn, she said, "I see you've met my little Frieda there." She nodded to the giggling pair standing by the entrance of the premise. She spoke with a thick German accent.

Quinn nodded, smiling as well. "She really is adorable," she agreed.

"But can be such a devil sometimes, that little monster!" The woman chuckled heartily. "So what can I get you, dear? Our ice cream are all homemade, and that-" She pointed to a tub of green, pink, and yellow ice cream mixed in with chocolate sprinkles. Quinn raised an eyebrow, amused. "-is Frieda's recipe. But between you and I," the woman spoke in a low voice. "It's the only ice cream in here that'll give you premature diabetes." In her normal voice, she continued with a proud sigh. "At least me little girl's heart is in the right place."

"I'll have two scoops of plain chocolate in a cup, if that's the case," Quinn replied with a laugh when she felt a small tap on her shoulder. She turned around to see Frieda, whom Jeff was still carrying. "Oh, hello, Frieda. Stealing my Jeff away, are you now?" she asked wanly while silently laughed at Jeff's change of expression once the words left her mouth. 'He's just so adorable! Wait- did I just _say_ that?'

Frieda's eyes widened in fright. She shook her head furiously, pigtails whipping her chubby face. "No," she said in a small voice, looking down.

Jeff stepped up to the counter after setting the little girl down on the floor. "A strawberry cone for me, please and thank you, Gretel!" he beamed brightly at the woman behind the counter.

Quinn thanked Gretel, took her order, and was ready to take out a purse when Jeff put a restraining hand over hers. He gave her a look that said, "_You're seriously taking your money out? C'mon, put it back; it's on me._" She sighed and mouthed a thank you to him, smiling. She took a seat at a nearby table.

"Qinn."

The blonde turned to see Frieda standing by her knee, eyes wide and innocent. "Hi, sweetheart. You want to share my ice cream?" Quinn gestured to her cup. The little girl nodded, eyes brightening up almost immediately, and Quinn lifted her up and sat her on her lap.

"Qinn," Frieda said again, voice small. She was gripping onto the ice cream spoon tightly, her tiny knuckles turning white. Quinn gently prised the spoon away from her grip.

"What is it, honey?"

Frieda glanced around Quinn to look at the counter. The older girl followed suit to see Jeff chatting animatedly to Frieda's mother while the woman was tending to another customer. "Is something wrong, Frieda?"

The little girl only shook her head in response. "Can you keep a secret?" Quinn nodded at her, and that seemed to please the little girl. "Jeffy said to me that he wants to take you carry-okay. I don't get it; it's okay for Jeffy to carry me because I'm small, but I don't think he can carry you! You're big, like him!" She lifted her chubby arms in the air to emphasise her point.

Quinn looked back at Jeff, then at Frieda again, letting out a small bark of laughter. She combed the little girl's pigtails with her fingers. "I think he meant karaoke, Frieda."

Frieda nodded. "Yeah, that's what I said: carry-okay." She then turned back to Quinn's ice cream, attacking it with fervour once she was sure that Quinn would keep the secret.

Jeff walked over just in time, dropping down on the chair across from the two girls. "Mother used to bring me here when I was a kid, when Gretel's dad was running the place then. I've been coming here ever since. I was the one who introduced this place to the Dalton boys when I started there!" he explained with a proud grin to Quinn, who was watching Frieda. His eyes lowered to the little girl. "Whoa, Frieda Meier, how dare you eat Quinn's ice cream? Where are your manners?" he scolded, eyes narrowed but glinting with mischievousness. "Do you want me to tell your mother?"

With a small squeak, Frieda quickly dropped the spoon with a clink into the cup. She scrambled up to a standing position on Quinn's lap, deftly turned around, and buried her head into the crook of her neck, whimpering in fright. The older girl had to stifle her laugh and pat the little girl on the back reassuringly. Jeff only rolled his eyes at the younger girl's dramatics.

"Don't worry, I won't let the mean boy hurt you, Frieda," Quinn said, stroking the frightened girl's hair. Giving Jeff a look, she continued. "I'm sharing my ice cream with you, aren't I?" The girl nodded, arms still around Quinn's neck. "C'mon, sweetie, let's finish up my ice cream, okay? I bet we could finish it up faster than the mean boy!" She attempted to soothe the girl in a soft voice.

Frieda hesitated for a moment, but she slowly raised her head. Quinn helped her to a sitting position, but her foot slipped from Quinn's lap. Fortunately, the older girl was quick to catch Frieda in a cradle before she could manage a squeak from her little mouth. The only unfortunate event was, Quinn had to kick the table away so that it wouldn't come in contact with Frieda's head, or the child could crack her skull open. Jeff, who happened to be leaning on his elbows that were resting on the table, had his ice cream cone smashed into his face.

Once Quinn got Frieda -who was already greedily stuffing her face in Quinn's ice cream, accident forgotten- on another chair, only she appraised the situation properly. She dragged the table away to where it was before, straightened her clothes, and mentally checked herself for any bodily harm she might've inflicted. _Then_ she noticed the silence across the table.

The bottom half of Jeff's face was smothered in dripping pink liquid.

Keeling over, Quinn could not help but laugh and snort at Jeff's condition. He was glaring at her while the ice cream dripped on the table in slow rivulets. Bent over double, the blonde was laughing so hard that she was nearly out of breath. When she finally recollected herself, wiping tears away from the corner of her eyes, she looked at Jeff again, trying to regain composure.

And failed miserably.

For five straight minutes, Quinn was doubling over in laughter as Jeff cleaned himself up the best he could. When he was done, his nose was red from the cold. He was only lucky that he didn't stain his clothes.

"Are you quite finished, Fabray?" he asked thinly. His cheeks were also stained red, from embarrassment or cold, Quinn wasn't sure.

Inhaling a final breath, she nodded, not trusting her voice, or she would start laughing again.

"Jeffy, ask Qinn out to the carry-okay that you told me about just now."

* * *

><p><strong>I do hope you have enjoyed part four thus far. Part five will be the second last chapter, with the epilogue being the last, obviously! Stay tuned for it!<strong>

**And also, part five will be slightly longer than the previous chapters. Just a forewarning, of course. The last part would be a compilation of random songs, but not exactly a songfic either. (:**

**Note: Drop a review or two to let me know of what you have thought of my part four. Your opinions and criticism are very important for me to improve on any future writing.**

**Thank you for reading! (:**


	5. I Want You

**Here is part five-point-one of a five-part Fanfic. I know I had initially promised for a five-part fiction, but I had enjoyed writing part five so much that it turned out to be more than I had expected! Therefore, the two-part of five part Fanfic.**

**I do not own anything of Glee; make no money from the stories; the original characters belong to the creators, producers, and scriptwriters. Any events related to real life are purely coincidental. **

**Special appearances by CP Coulter's original Dalton characters in alphabetical order: Brightman, Ethan; Brightman, Evan.**

**Song used in this chapter credited: _I'm Yours_ by Jason Mraz.**

**I now present to you part one of five of _The Beatles: Summer Flings_.**

* * *

><p>"Isn't it a bit sad, though, to be karaoke-ing with just the two of us?" Quinn mussed aloud.<p>

Jeff was driving her back to Lima, with Frieda playing with a couple of Barbie dolls in the backseat. Gretel had allowed Frieda to tag along after much pleading and begging from her daughter and Quinn, who had taking a liking towards the little girl. Likewise, Frieda clung onto Quinn, even to the extent of refusing to hold Jeff's hand.

"She always wanted to hold my hand! It's not fair; she's only met you today! I had to keep going back to the parlour to get her to like me as much as she likes you, too!" he had whined, pouting a little as the trio walked back to the car after Jeff had cleaned himself up the best he could after the 'incident.'

"After all," she continued. "Between the both of us, and deep down inside of you, you just know that _I'm_ the better singer." She shrugged absently with a playful haughty look.

"Oh, are you now? I beg to differ, Quinn Fabray, because I can bet you my car that you can't do this," he said with a challenging tone before belting out the instrumental opening of a song vocally. Quinn recognised it to be Jason Mraz's _I'm Yours_.

She provided the vocals to his instrumental chords as he mimicked the strumming of the guitar:

"_Well you've done, done me and you bet I felt it;__  
><em>_I tried to be chill but you're so hot that I melted;__  
><em>_I fell right through the cracks,__  
><em>_And now I'm trying to get back,__  
><em>_Before the cool done run out;__  
><em>_I'll be giving it my bestest;__  
><em>_Nothing's going to stop me but divine intervention;__  
><em>_I reckon it's again my turn to win some or learn some._

_I won't hesitate no more, no more__  
><em>_It cannot wait, I'm yours_"

Then together, they sang the next verse. Like the previous songs they have sung together, their voices melded and blended in together in perfect harmony, soaring in ranges that the both of them had never explored before.

"_Well open up your mind and see like me.__  
><em>_Open up your plans and damn, you're free.__  
><em>_Look into your heart and you'll find love, love, love, love;__  
><em>_Listen to the music of the moment people dance and sing, we're just one big family.__  
><em>_It's our God-forsaken right to be loved, loved, loved, loved, loved._"

Jeff stopped at a red light, then looked at Quinn, gazing into her hazel-green eyes intently. He sang, voice deep and full of meaning:

"_So I won't hesitate no more, no more;__  
><em>_It cannot wait, I'm sure.__  
><em>_There's no need to complicate;__  
><em>_Our time is short.__  
><em>_This is our fate, I'm yours._"

"Wow," a voice breathed from the backseat. The blondes had forgotten than they had a four-year-old in the car with them. "That was beautiful!" she said before turning back to her dolls. "Don't you think they sing pretty, Barbie? Kelly?" she asked her dolls, stroking their hair.

Beaming, Quinn said, turning to Jeff, "Okay, I admit that I can't do _that_. But at least I don't sway while performing." She gave him a smirk that could rival Sebastian's any day.

"Hey!" he protested. "The Warblers do not _sway_, or have we not proven that to you during Regionals a mere few months ago?"

"Which you guys lost, just so you know."

Jeff clutched at his heart with the hand that wasn't on the steering wheel. "You wound me, Quinn. Now I'm hurt. You just said that I will never be worthy of you!" He sighed dramatically and wiped an exaggerated tear from the corner of his eye.

"I did _not_ say that! I merely stated th-" Quinn was just about to protest when a head of curls popped out from between their seats.

"Are you fighting? Mummy says couples shouldn't fight-"

"-we're not a couple-" Quinn started.

"We're not?" Jeff cried dramatically, face aghast with wide eyes and mouth wide open in an 'O.'

"-and should kiss and make up when they fight," she continued as if the two had never interrupted. She nodded her head once in finality to let the two know that she was completely serious. She gave Quinn a look of pure innocence. "I don't want you to not be with Jeffy. Kiss and make up, Qinn!"

"We're not fighting, sweetheart. We were just-"

"Oh, I'd say we _are_ fighting. The mean girl hurt me, Frieda!" cried Jeff, feigning hurt, pouting and he even sobbed a little. He turned to Quinn and gave her a wink. "How about a kiss, then?"

"Kiss, kiss! Kiss Jeffy, Qinn!" Frieda cried. She made to push the older girl towards the Warbler, who was grinning ear to ear. "Oof!" she huffed when Quinn rested her dead weight on the little girl. "Ge'off, Qinn! Ge'off me; you have to kiss Jeffy _now_ or you two won't be happy! Qinnnnnnnnn!" she whined.

Jeff, too, decided to join in. "Yes, Qinn, you have to kiss me!" he whined playfully at her, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss!" the two conspirators chanted in unison, one serious while the other was already laughing uncontrollably.

'These two will be the death of me,' Quinn groaned internally. "Okay, okay, fine!" the pressured blonde finally cried, throwing her hands up, defeated by a little girl and a cheeky Warbler. She heard Frieda take in a breath of anticipation as Quinn leaned towards Jeff and proceeded to plant a kiss on his offered cheek.

"Nooooooo," Frieda whined again after Quinn had pulled away. "On the lips, on the lips! Mummy said so!"

"You wanted me to kiss Jeff, and I did kiss him. That's that," said Quinn, scrunching up her nose and stuck out her tongue at the younger girl. "You didn't say where."

"Do it again, do it again!" the child cried exasperatedly. She was giving Quinn one last doe-eyed look. "Please?"

"Maybe later; Jeff is driving now and has to concentrate on the road."

"Yeah," Jeff nodded from the driver's seat. "We don't want to make Quinn uncomfortable, do we, Frieda?" He glanced at the New Directioner from the corner of his eye, smirk growing wider when he saw her blushing to the scalp.

"No," said Frieda with a small frown after taking a while to think. She then sank back to her seat, Barbies tucked to sitting positions on either side of her.

After driving with the most awkward silence in the car, Quinn said, "Relishing in my discomfort, Sterling?" Her voice had an edge to it that Jeff couldn't put a finger on, and his thoughts went into a mad frenzy. She was glaring out of the windshield, arms crossed across her chest, and the corners of her lips were turned southwards.

'Have I upsetted her? Oh shit, I didn't mean to; I just wanted to tease her. Please don't let her be mad at me, please don't let her be mad at me,' he chanted in his head. Finally: "I'm sorry," he apologised in a small voice. He parked his car at the Ohio State Mall, quiet and contemplative when Quinn didn't offer him a response of any kind. 'Should I-'

Then she giggled. Quinn hid her mouth behind her hand as she tittered, looking at him. "You should- You should've seen the look on your face! You were all sad-looking and serious. Here, look," she said, reaching a hand to his face and smoothing out the frown lines between his brows with a gentle touch of her fingers. She smiled kindly at his confused expression.

Continuing, "You don't need to worry about upsetting me, you know. I'm Quinn Fabray, ex captain of the Cheerios; I've received enough grief from one Sue Sylvester over the years to be immune to these sort of things."

Jeff frowned again. "I give you grief?" He threw up his hands. "Great. First you say I'm not worthy of you, and now you say I give you grief. I get it: I'm nothing but a nuisance to you," he sighed dejectedly, forehead slumping forwards to a thump on the steering wheel. "Ow," he mumbled at the contact.

Quinn poked him in the ribs and he jumped. "I did _not_ say such things; you simply assumed them. Now stop sulking and let's go!"

"Alright, alright. Calm down, pushy," he mumbled, earning him a slap on the shoulder just as he got out of the car. He slipped on his sunglasses against the glaring sun.

She turned to Frieda, who was still in the backseat watching the ongoing dramatics between her and Jeff, silent but eyes wide and curious. "Frieda, you hold on to Jeff's hand this time, alright?" she asked.

"But I want to hold your hand!"

"Tell you what- you can hold on to both our hands. How does that sound?" Quinn smiled. Then she noticed the dolls Frieda was reaching out to bring along with her. "If you want to hold our hands, you have to leave Barbie and Kelly in the car, because the Frieda I know only has two hands," she added, tickling the little girl.

Frieda squealed out a breathless "Okay" and climbed over the seats to get out of the car. Jeff was already waiting to lock up.

Once out of the car, the four-year-old grabbed ahold of his hand, the other clutching on to a Barbie. He gave Quinn a look of surprise and almost whooped in delight when she winked at him. He slipped an arm around Quinn, pulling her close as the trio walked into the mall. Whispering in her ear, he said, triumphantly, "She's holding my hand! Beat ya!" He absently nuzzled the back of her ear.

"Can we go to the toy store later, Jeffy?" asked Frieda in a small voice, sharp eyes already trained on aforementioned store. She averted her gaze to give a pleading look to the intimate couple, who hadn't heard her. She tugged at his hand a few times to get his attention when he didn't answer her. "Jeffy?"

Quinn turned to the little girl. "Of course you can, sweetie. Let's go right now!" She looked at Jeff, face already lit up in a bright grin. "Can we?" she asked, giving him her best pleading look.

He rolled his eyes heavenward. "Sure, why not," he deadpanned, voice monotonous.

The triad made their way to the store. Once it was within running distance, Frieda tore her hand away from Jeff's hold and made a mad dash for the pinkest section he had ever seen in his life.

"Don't break anything, Frieda!" Quinn called before they lost sight of the excited little girl. The two slowly walked to the entrance of the store hand in hand when a familiar voice stopped them in their tracks.

"Oh, my Prada and Chanel, am I seeing things here, Blaine?" Kurt gasped from behind the blonde pair.

The two turned to see Blaine and Kurt together, the latter's arms lined with shopping bags. Both bore cheeky grins on their faces, and Blaine had his eyebrows raised so high that they were nearly touching his hairline.

"Hi, guys!" Quinn beamed, making to move away from Jeff to give Kurt a hug, but Jeff wrapped a protective arm around her shoulder with a smirk. He received a questioning look from her.

"What was _that_ all about?" asked Kurt with a raised eyebrow. "Are you guys babysitting or something?"

"Or something," replied a grinning Jeff, head shaking.

"Jeff?" Blaine prompted for a proper answer.

"We're not babysitting; we adopted a kid!" Jeff exclaimed proudly then beaming down at Quinn. He earned a few odd looks from passersby and an old couple nearby scoffed, muttering, "Sure, they probably were pregnant with the kid themselves!"

"_What_?" the other three cried, aghast.

Quinn blanched, but after Jeff gave her a discreet squeeze, she knew. Quickly regaining composure, she said, "Oh, yeah. It was a total act of spontaneity on our part," she nodded knowingly.

"But you guys have only been dating, what? Three, four days, tops?" Kurt protested. "You can't just _adopt_ just because you're both acting on a whim. You both must be _crazy_ to do this sort of thing." His arms were flailing, bags swinging in the air. "You have to think about putting a roof over her head, her education, and the clothes she wears -which I think she'll look absolutely adorable in Baby Gap, but that's not the point! What about food on the table? She's going to be a hormonal teenager; boys will be in her brains, and- and- and-" Kurt was already red in the face from overexertion.

Blaine was just giving him looks that suggested that his boyfriend was a tad bit dramatic just then, so he averted his gaze to study the pair with curious eyes. Then he turned back to his boyfriend. "Kurt, they're obviously pulling our legs." He gestured to Jeff. "Look at him; he has that look in his eyes that Ethan and Evan has when they're up to something."

Quinn was about to speak up when she felt a tug on her dress. Looking down, she saw Frieda hiding behind her legs, large eyes appraising Kurt and Blaine arguing quietly. She was hugging one of Quinn's legs. "Oh, hey, honey. Seen anything you like?" she asked the girl, stroking her hair softly. Frieda nodded. Kurt and Blaine looked up upon Quinn's greeting to the little girl. "We'll get it later, okay? This is Kurt and Blaine, our friends. Say hi, sweetie."

With a shy wave of her small hand, Frieda greeted the two newcomers, then retreating back to hide behind Quinn again.

"Hello, sweetheart," Blaine smiled kindly, squatting down to eye level to the girl the same time Kurt waggled his fingers at her. Frieda shrank back further into Quinn, and buried her head to the older girl's leg shyly.

"Don't be scared, Frieda; they're nice people," said Jeff, reaching around to stroke her hair.

At Jeff's reassuring words, Frieda inched forwards a little to stand in front of the still squatting Blaine. "Are- Are you going to carry-okay with Jeffy and Qinn later?" asked Frieda in a small voice. Kurt and Blaine raised their eyebrows at the aforementioned two.

"Qinn?" Kurt said the same time Blaine mumbled bluntly, "Jeffy." Both tried to stifle their growing laughter at the nicknames.

Frieda nodded excitedly, fuelled by Jeff's encouragement. "Yeah, they're the best!" she exclaimed, looking up to Jeff and Quinn for approval. "Can I show Bane the doll I want?"

"C'mon, we don't have to ask them for permission; I'll take you!" Blaine said with a small scoff, standing up. His knees popped once he did, having been squatting down for some time. He was already halfway into the store, being dragged by an excited four-year-old by the time Kurt had time to answer the blondes.

"So how about it? Karaoke with us?" The blonde New Directioner pressed on.

Kurt picked up and dropped a shoulder nonchalantly. "Sure. You'll round up the guys?"

Jeff nodded, waving his Blackberry. "See you guys back at Westerville!" he grinned.

"You drove all the way here to Lima, then back to Westerville later?" Quinn demanded, eyes rolling and head shaking in disapproval. Before Jeff could answer, she said absently, "I'm going to see what Frieda is coercing Blaine into now." She gave Jeff's hand a quick squeeze and offered Kurt a smile before walking into the store in search of the sly little girl and the curly-haired boy.

The two that were left standing by the entrance could only stare after her; a small smile playing on Jeff's lips while the other boy bore a smirk, eyes glinting.

"So when did you and Quinn decided to 'adopt'?" he queried, raising air quotations. Sighing, he added, "After what happened with Beth. . ." he trailed off, averting his gaze away from his friend.

Jeff simply shrugged. "Quinn's good with Frieda, I'll give you that much. Frieda's been clinging to her since I brought her to Gretel's today."

Kurt simply nodded in approval. "I see you've taken her to First Date Hangouts already." He clapped Jeff on the shoulder once. "Did she like it?"

Jeff rubbed the back of his neck again, face contorted. "I- Uhh, actually- How do I say this- Ahh-" he mused for some time before Kurt snapped, "Spit it out, Sterling!"

"I didn't bring her there on our first date," the blonde blurted.

"_What_?" Kurt almost yelled. "It's like, an unspoken tradition that Dalton boys bring their first dates to Lookout Point! _What were you thinking_?" he demanded, swatting Jeff who recoiled at the hard smacks.

"My mother had something to do with it, too," Jeff grumbled. He was already rubbing at the affected area where Kurt had hit him. "She insisted I bring Quinn to Gaston's, even when Quinn protested-"

"-oh, Clara. I miss talking fashion with her, besides Reed, of course-"

"-besides, we were in Lima. You know it takes a good half hour to get back to Westerville," Jeff continued.

Realization dawned in Kurt's glasz eyes. "So _that's_ where you brought her that night I threw her that party! I was wondering why she brought you back that night, even more so when the Tweedles strolled into her house carrying their crazy sound system in!"

Jeff chuckled. "Yeah, about that. She took my phone and sorta invited them that night. Everyone thought it was me."

"No matter. The more the merrier and all that, right?" Kurt waved a flippant hand. His gaze flickered from Jeff's to see Blaine walking towards them sans the two girls. "Oh, there's Blaine." The blonde turned to the direction Kurt was staring at.

The shorter boy shrugged at Jeff apologetically and gestured with a thumb back to the store. "They're playing with the display Barbies, dressing them up and all. Frieda made me have tea with Malibu, Mermaid, and Kimora Barbie," he explained.

Kurt narrowed his eyes at his boyfriend, scrutinizing. "Is that- Is that glitter in your hair?" He picked out some and flicked it away.

"Sorry, I fell into a pile of Red Carpet Barbie's dresses," Blaine said with a nervous laugh. Kurt simply tsked. Then he turned to Jeff. "So, we'll see you tonight?"

"Sure," he shrugged. "See you guys tonight!"

As Kurt and Blaine were about to leave, Quinn and Frieda emerged from the toy store. The latter was clutching a Barbie to her chest, the doll's dress shimmering at all the right places where the light caught on it. The housing box must be in the paper bag Quinn was carrying.

"We're going now, little Frieda!" Blaine called, waving to the little girl. "I'll see you soon, alright?"

The little girl sprinted to Blaine, who caught her in a hug. "Bye, Bane. We have tea soon with my new Barbie, okay?" she mumbled into his neck.

"Okay, little one. Soon?" he replied, raising a pinkie to Frieda, who linked it with her own chubby little finger. He set Frieda down and the group exchanged their goodbyes with Jeff promising to update them on the venue of the gathering tonight. Kurt and Blaine then walked off hand in hand while the blonde pair and Frieda made their way back to Jeff's car since it was already early evening and Frieda had to be home by five.

The little girl immediately dozed off in the backseat, the Barbie Quinn had bought for her pressed to her chest protectively. Quinn draped her cardigan over Frieda who relaxed under the welcomed warmth of the fabric. When she turned back to face forward, she noticed Jeff was staring at her with a smile.

"What?" Quinn asked, uncomfortable under his gaze. She nervously tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Nothing," he simply said, turning back to the road. "You're adorable," he muttered under his breath.

However, in the silence of the car, Quinn had heard him and her cheeks reddened at the statement. Feigning indifference, she fumbled around her purse for her cell phone, but found it to be dead. Groaning, she thumped her head on the headrest. "My phone battery died. Can I borrow yours? I just need to tell my mom I won't be home early tonight."

"Sure," Jeff answered, pulling his phone out from his pocket. He angled the phone away when she reached for it. "No mass texting my friends again," he warned in a serious tone, eyes never leaving the road, but she could see that he was trying to fight off a smile.

"It was only a one time thing!" she protested. He reluctantly passed her his Blackberry with a roll of his brown eyes. After what seemed to be the longest two minutes of texting, Quinn finally put the gadget down. "Can we stop by your place after dropping Frieda off?"

"What for?"

"You do have a charger for my phone, don't you? Just thirty minutes will do."

Shrugging, he said, "I don't see why not. Let's just return Frieda safe first, then we'll go back?" He nodded at the sleeping child.

"That's the plan," agreed Quinn, yawning a little.

Jeff noticed. "You take a nap, too, then. I know Frieda's a handful when she's fuelled by sugar and the sight of toys; you must be tired chasing her around."

"Hm," she hummed. "She was a perfect angel. . ." she trailed off, voice soft, and soon, her head lolled to the side as she drifted off.

Jeff smiled to himself. He had never expected things to come to this so quickly given the circumstances. Everything he had done so far was on pure whim and spontaneity with Quinn. Dinner with her at the market square, singing to her -and only her- at her party, the Nerf war and hiding out with her on the slide, bringing her to his house and then to Gretel's ice cream parlour; everything was on a whim on his part. What he didn't expect was her to follow him in every step and keeping up with his childish antics and excitements, what with Frieda thrown into the mix today.

At least it's summer, he thought. We would have all the time in the world to figure things out, if fate allows us to. Then there's Yale together after that. Isn't that our paths crossing again?

Jeff was never one to allow 'fate' or whatever divine intervention to pave out his life for him; he simply never believed in such things. As someone had said, you are the maker of your own destiny. Besides, he had been kept on his toes for most part of his so far failed love life, what with the extraneous and excessive planning with his previous girlfriends.

Their expectations of him have always been sky high, simply because he was a rich kid from Dalton. The girls at Dalton's sister school, Crawford Country Day School for Girls, were also from well-to-do families, and they were expected to be treated as such. He simply couldn't afford to downplay anything with them. What had made it really tense for him was the fact that his girlfriends were from Crawford.

With Quinn, however, everything was the complete opposite. Everything had been decided at the very last minute, and the both of them had gone with his random plans. Going with the flow, to simply put it. Never in his life would he ever introduce his Crawford girlfriends to Frieda, because he was afraid that they might find a little girl disgusting and prude and loud and noisy.

Once he deposited a sleeping Frieda to her mother's arms (he didn't want to wake Quinn up), he drove back to his house, arriving just before seven.

"Quinn," Jeff said softly, shaking the blonde girl gently. "Wake up." They were already parked in the driveway of his house. She stirred a little, but she didn't wake up otherwise. He tried again. "Quinn!"

"_Wake up, pretty talking flower_!"

Quinn jerked awake at the screams with a small scream of her own. Her eyes flew open in fright as she sat up straighter, head whipping around wildly to find the source of the yells. Two thumps followed, and Jeff could see his twin cousins lying flat on the passenger side door, unattractive faces pressed onto the glass. He glared at them, silently congratulating himself for not unlocking the car doors just yet, or the twins would've bundled up the sleeping Quinn and put her in an unreachable place.

"Hello, Jeffers!" they chorused happily, waving. "Good morning, pretty talking flower!"

Quinn was absently rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Groaning, she managed to croak out a "I need some w-" before Jeff slapped a hand over her mouth. Outside, the twins grinned. She gave him a look that demanded to know what his hand was doing over her mouth.

Still glaring at the Tweedles, Jeff explained, "If you tell them what you need, they'll flood you with it. And what's worse is that they now know where you live." He removed his hand from her and sank back into his seat with a heaving sigh.

Evan tapped the window with a finger. "You know, even though your windows are tinted so dark that we can't see you-"

"-but we still can hear you talking, Jeffers," finished Ethan. "You can't hide out in your car forever."

"Don't forget that we can break into anywhere," continued Evan in a hollow voice.

"Or have you forgotten why Stuarts have been using key cards for three years now?" Ethan said in an equally hollow voice.

"What are you guys doing here?" Jeff demanded.

"You sent us a text-"

"-karaoke at your place?"

The Warbler in the car whipped his head around to look at Quinn. She bore a guilty look on her face, chewing her bottom lip. "You said you wouldn't!" he groaned.

"I didn't promise though. There is a difference," she grinned at him, eyes glinting.

"She got you there, cousin," the twins said from outside the car. Their voices had a proud edge to it.

Quinn reached for Jeff's hand and gave it a squeeze. "You won't be sorry, I promise. Can we go upstairs now?" she asked him innocently.

He returned the squeeze. "Fine." To the twins outside, he shouted a warning, "Don't try anything funny, Tweedles! We're armed!" He didn't receive an answer from either of them. "Tweedles?" Jeff called again, exchanging perplexed looks with Quinn.

"Evan?" Quinn called from inside the car. "Ethan?" She, too, didn't receive any form of recognition. Finally, she said to Jeff, "I'm going out."

"No, don't! You'll get killed out there!" he cried dramatically. Quinn made to unlock her side of the door and slowly opened it. "Quinn, noooooo," he cried, reaching out to her as she got out of the car-

-to stand outside safe and unharmed.

There were no foam darts raining down on her and she wasn't splattered in paint. Nothing. She was just simply appraising her surroundings, but also cautious at the same time. Jeff was baffled.

He got out of the car as well. Likewise, he wasn't pelted with Nerf ammunition nor covered in paint. The twins were simply out of sight, nowhere to be seen in the vicinity. "Huh, that's weird."

"Let's just get upstairs," Quinn said wanly. "Being exposed out here in the open gives them the opportunity to get us." She quickly walked around the car to where Jeff stood and took his hand, dragging him through the front door.

"-boys! You're in my house now, you hear me?"

Quinn walked into the foyer with Jeff in tow to see Mrs Sterling shouting up the staircase to Jeff's part of the house. She had a feeling that the matriarch was shouting a warning to the twins, and she was certainly surer that it wasn't a casual greeting to her beloved nephews either.

"Hello, Clara!" she piped up. The older Sterling turned around at the greeting, bright smile on her face upon recognizing the voice.

Skirt flowing behind her, Mrs Sterling floated towards the two. "Hello, darlings, welcome home!" She preceded to air kiss Quinn, then her son. "Um, did you know-" She pointed to Jeff's wing.

"Yeah, we know," he nodded to his mother. "I hope they go into the spare bedroom." The grin he bore wasn't a playful one, and the glint in his brown eyes were similar to the ones she had seen before in the twins' eyes that night at her party, just before the Nerf war. Quinn didn't even want to know what Jeff had done to his spare bedroom.

As if on cue, there was a loud crash from the second floor. Yells followed, then: "Jeff, we're gonna get you back for this!" a pair of voices chorused in frustration.

Mrs Sterling simply tsked, shaking her head in obvious disapproval. "Almost twenty and still acting like children!" she cried in mock anguish, throwing her bangle-adorned hands heavenward. She walked towards the conservatory, head still shaking. "Ethan, Evan! No paint in the house!" she yelled before disappearing through the archway.

"C'mon, I wanna see what they broke!" Jeff dragged Quinn up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. She had to quicken her pace to catch up. "I had the furniture in the room moved to the walls, and had the floors waxed and polished thrice a week since last summer. Four times since spring, just in case," he explained breathlessly. They came to a stop in front of a room with the door ajar with very two frustrated boys in it.

Evan and Ethan were sprawled on the floor, slipping each time they tried to stand up. With each try, they ended up sliding across the floor repeatedly. A coffee table lay on its side, the wooden legs of the table splintered. Right now, both were supporting each other to try to maintain some stability, but one misstep had one tumbling over the other. The pair standing by the doorway was guffawing and doubled up in laughter: Quinn was laughing and snorting so hard that tears were forming in her eyes. Jeff was just rolling on the floor, clutching his abdomen.

Evan glared, and said, "Wait until we get out of this room."

"We'll get you back," Ethan promised.

"Until- Until you do, we'll be- we'll be in the entertainment room," Jeff managed to pant out between peels of laughter. He took the laughing Quinn by the hand and led her to the aforementioned room.

"Wait, wait, wait," Quinn gasped out, resting a hand over his over the doorknob. She let out a calming breath before continuing. "Before you go in, I just wanted to tell you that- that-"

"What?"

She exhaled again and looked him in the eye. "I just wanted to thank you for everything that you have done so far; it honestly has been the best summer I've spent in _ages_."

Jeff was confused. "You're welcome," he said, although it came out more like a question. "Why the sudden appreciation, though?" He was apprehensive.

"Because you might kill me for this," she said as she threw open the door to the entertainment room.

"What are you-"

"_SURPRISE_!"

* * *

><p><strong>I do hope you have enjoyed part one of five so far. Do stay tuned for part two of five, and then the epilogue!<strong>

**Note: Let me know of what you have thought about my story so far. Your values and opinions are essentially a part of my writing practice, and will definitely be a contribution for my future writings.**

**Thank you for reading! (:**


	6. She's So Heavy

**Here is part five-point-two of a five-part Fanfic, the last chapter to this fic that I have grown to love so much! (':**

**I do not own anything of Glee; make no money from the stories; the original characters belong to the creators, producers, and scriptwriters. Any events related to real life are purely coincidental. **

**Special appearances by CP Coulter's original Dalton characters in alphabetical order: Bancroft, Justin; Brightman, Ethan; Brightman, Evan; Houston, Dwight; van Kamp, Reed.**

**Song used in this chapter credited: _For Your Entertainment_ by Adam Lambert; _A Little Piece of Heaven_ by Avenged Sevenfold.**

**I now present to you part two of five of _The Beatles: Summer Flings_.**

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><p>"<em>SURPRISE<em>!" the room burst into a yell just as the door swung open to reveal a roomful of New Directioners, Warblers, and Dalton boys.

Jeff stood rooted to the spot, completely shell-shocked and at a loss for words; his jaw was hanging open, brown eyes as wide as saucers. The grip he had on Quinn's hand had slackened and had fallen to his side.

"Wh- How- Wh-" he was stammering, still staring at the people in the room. They were all grinning at him and, also obviously waiting for him to recollect himself.

"Close your mouth, Sterling. You'll catch flies," Quinn giggled by his side. She gently pushed up his lower jaw like he had done with her before whilst dragging him into the room where its occupants evidently surrounded the boy in honour. Everyone offered words of congratulatory and expressed their happiness for him, among others.

"You sneaky lad, you. Thought we wouldn't find out, did you?" Justin Bancroft said in his Cockney accent, clapping Jeff on the back once.

Wes and David, too, congratulated their fellow Warbler. "Congratulations on Yale, buddy!" they cried.

"This is your Yale acceptance party!" said Quinn with a laugh. She had materialized to his side after greeting some of her friends. "Do you like it? I mean, you don't mind, do you? I sort of turned our date into a party," she said, unsure. She was worrying her bottom lip in guilt again.

"Hey, no, of course not. Don't worry about it," he reassured her with a quick hug. Then, with a grin, he said, "You're the first to throw me a surprise party, ever. Thank you." He enveloped her in another hug.

"You are most welcome. Speaking of welcome-" She pointed to the door. "It looks like the Tweedles managed to get out of the room."

True to her word, the twins were standing by the doorway, talking to a very frustrated and grumpy-looking Dwight, who was currently lining the doorway with salt. With the advantage of height, Jeff could see that twins' clothes were rumpled and slightly dusty, if angled just right in the light of the room. He was mildly surprised that they actually managed to think properly without getting frustrated the whole time they were trapped in the room.

"Yep, cousin, we actually got out," they said in unison, popping up behind Jeff. The older boy jumped.

"Didn't help our clothes, though-"

"-seeing as se had to _slide_ our way out."

"But we gotta hand it to you: that was a smart move," they ended together with identical grins on their lips.

Quinn put a restraining hand on each of the twins' chests. "No more antics for the day. Today is Jeff's day, so don't ruin this for him, or you'll have me to answer to," she warned them. She bore a glower that made the twins wince and back up a step. "Got it?" she asked. There was also a slight malice to her voice. The twins gulped audibly and blended into -or towered over- the crowd.

"Well, that's a first," Jeff said with amazement by her side. "They actually backed away."

"You mean they've never done that before?"

"Once- they had a Russian no-nonsense nanny that scared the crap out of them when they were four or so- old enough to load Nerf guns, actually. Audrey had their parents fire the woman in the end, and she practically raised them herself after that," Jeff explained. He was watching the twins. He sighed- though it wasn't a frustrated one. "Audrey's really special."

"That's-" A pause. "Really scary," she said after deciding on the right adjective. "But I want to meet Audrey more than ever now." She took ahold of his hand and dragged him to the dais where the projector screen was. "C'mon, I'd like to formally introduce the party." Jeff followed her onstage, smiling, and took the proffered microphone she held out to him. She picked up another, pushing the switch on, and tapped it a few times. The room silenced and turned to the stage as the sounds echoed throughout the room.

Quinn cleared her throat and began. "Thank you all for coming here tonight. I know some of you may have wondered why you were invited here." She scanned the room and saw that many were nodding in agreement, while some held questioning expressions. Others simply knew already. "Well, since most of you have attended the acceptance party that my dear friend, Kurt-" she gestured to the aforementioned boy standing by the snack bar. "Had organised for me, I am now doing the same for Jeff here." She turned to the blonde standing onstage with her. "Would you like to tell your esteemed guests yourself, or should I?"

Chuckling, he turned to the crowd. "I got accepted into Yale."

With that, the room burst into applause, some catcalled, some whistled, some whooped in the shared happiness.

"Before the party officially begins, I'd like to say, congratulations to Jeff, on your acceptance to such a prestigious school as Yale." The attendees cheered once more, followed by a chorus of "Hear, hear!" and "To Jeff!"

Beside her, Jeff was wearing the goofiest grin. His cheeks were tinted a light shade of pink from all the attention he was getting from his guests. He raised the microphone in he had gripped in his hand. "I'd just like to thank Quinn-" He grabbed her waist, pulling her closer to him as the room whooped. "You sneaky girl, for throwing me this party. You all-" He faced the crowd. "For attending-"

"-get on with it! I want to sing!" someone shouted from the back of the room. The attendees burst into laughter.

"-and I'd like to start with the first song," finished Jeff. "Sorry, dude, but guest of honour first," he added with a shrug to the person who had interjected earlier.

Jeff sifted through the collection of CDs by the DVD player and slid in a disc while Quinn hopped offstage to join her friends lounging on the couch nearby. He could hear their whispered conversation.

"Are you and Jeff like, an item?" Mercedes queried.

"Officially?" Rachel added.

He heard Santana scoff. "Official or not, let's just hope Queen Bee here can stay loyal enough for prep boy there."

"Santana!"

"What? She's ch-"

"Shut up, Santana. Grant her this one moment's of happiness, will you?" Mercedes bit back.

"Besides, he's good for her," said Tina. "Are you happy, Quinn?"

"I am. Happy, I mean," he heard the quiet reply. He swore he could hear the smile in her voice.

He couldn't help but bear a smile himself as the opening music of his selected song filled the room through the speakers. But why hadn't she answered her friends when asked if the both of them were together? He frowned a little until he caught her eyes. Okay, then, this is it, he thought to himself as he smiled warmly at her. Aloud, "Quinn, this is for you," he said into the microphone with a wink.

Those gathered cheered, and Jeff started:

"_I want you,__  
><em>_I want you so bad, babe,__  
><em>_I want you,__  
><em>_I want you so bad,__  
><em>_It's driving me mad,__  
><em>_It's driving me mad_,"

His brown eyes never left Quinn's hazel-green ones. He meant every word that left his lips and hoped that she knew it, too.

"_She's so heavy,__  
><em>_She's so heavy,__  
><em>_Heavy, heavy, heavy,_"

Every emotion, every feeling that was going through his body at that very moment was laced around the simplicity of the lyrics. Every thought he ever had centralised around this petite blonde girl that drove him to the brink of near craziness every time she was around him since the very day he literally bumped into her in the library.

At the close of the song, the room broke into applause, but he couldn't hear anyone right now. All he could see Quinn blushing in the most adorable shade of red ever, and she was smiling shyly up at him from beneath eyelashes. The next words that left his lips sent his heart pounding furiously in his chest and he was sure that it was amplified through the microphone.

"Quinn Fabray, will you be my girlfriend?"

With that being said, the room cheered again; the thunderous noise was deafening. Rachel and Brittany were screaming and clutching a very red-in-the-face girl in question, Mercedes and Tina were going "Aww!" and Santana simply rolled her eyes at the cheesiest proposal ever, though there was a smile on her lips. The Dalton boys were whooping so loudly Jeff was sure that his mother heard it from the conservatory.

"What's your answer, Fabray?" Blaine called from the punch bowl. All eyes turned to the blushing girl, anticipating, waiting.

"Yes."

Jeff let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in as the room burst into loud cheers. She said yes!

"Yes," she said again, louder and more confident this time.

Jeff flew down the dais and caught Quinn, who was forcibly pushed to a stand by her friends, before she tripped and fall face first onto the floor. Before she could regain her balance, he had caught her lips in a kiss so soft he was sure she couldn't feel it.

But she did, because she kissed him right back as she pressed her body against his, closing the gap between them whilst her arms snaked around his neck to deepen the kiss further.

"Let's keep this party strictly PG13, alright, guys?" someone yelled.

"Alright, gang!" someone was talking into a microphone. "If I could so kindly have your attention, please?" There was a sharp screeching of feedback, and the music stopped, everyone's attention turned to the speaker, David, on stage. Murmurs could be heard throughout the room, but David continued:

"It's time for duets!" David yelled to the room, pumping a fist into the air. Cheers erupted through the crowd in support of impromptu performances. "Okay, okay, settle down, kids." he continued. "We have rules, too, you know." At that, the crowd groaned, to which David laughed at.

Wes jumped on stage, grabbing the microphone from his best friend. "No, come on, guys. Listen up," he grinned, catching each person's eyes. "Rule one: you can pick any genre of your choice. Sing out your own rendition of it, whatever," he said, waving a hand flippantly. "However-" A pause as his eyes scanned the room. "No Bieber, no One Direction, and _absolutely_ no Rebecca Black." The crowd whooped in agreement. "We-" he gestured to himself, David, and Blaine, who was grinning by the couch. "-will determine your duet partners as you come on stage."

Towering over the crowd, the twins yelled in protest. "Hey, that's not very fair!" Evan -or was it Ethan? - shouted.

"Who are you to judge?" Ethan -or was it Evan? - retorted.

Someone from the back also yelled out. "What if I can't sing?" It was Justin.

From the stage, Wes grinned. "Ah, that is why we didn't put your name in, Justin. We know your singing would bring the dead back to life." Dwight glared at Wes from the windows where he was lining the sills with salt. "Besides, your high-pitched 'singing' could very well attract bats from Argentina that might mistake you as one of their own." The crowd snickered. Justin flashed a very rude sign with his fingers from the back of the room.

David made a snatch for the microphone, which resulted in another loud screeching feedback. "We've decided to make this a contest," he grinned at them. "Those who refuse their given partners are to do something they _absolutely do not want to do_ and thus, resulting in ego damage, destroyed reputations and a lifetime of torments and teasing." This seemed to please the twins immensely as they grinned at each other and nodded. "We have here-," David continued, pointing at Wes by his side, who was holding up a velveteen drawstring bag. "-a baggie of all your names, so you can't escape."

"Punishments are to be performed after this contest ends," Wes spoke from David's side, a hand already in the bag, digging through the slips of paper. "And our first contestant is-" he pulled out a slip. "Kurt Hummel, who will be singing with-" another rifle through the bag. "-Finn Hudson!"

By now, the crowd had perked up almost immediately upon the announcement of the contest. Most had already made themselves comfortable on the floor. They cheered loudly as Kurt bounded to the stage excitedly, followed by his reluctant stepbrother, who was red in the face. He clearly knew that he couldn't outshine his diva of a stepbrother.

"Nothing from Broadway, Kurt," Finn murmured to his brother as Kurt flipped through CDs, microphone already in hand.

"You're extremely lucky, brother dear; Jeff has absolutely nothing from Broadway!" Kurt huffed in disappointment, unaware his microphone was switched on. Finally deciding on a song, he popped a CD into the player. The opening music to the song filtered through the speakers. "Do keep up with me, Finn," he said in warning before taking it away with the opening verse:

"_So hot, out the box, can you up the pace?_

_Turn it up, heat it up, I need to be entertained,_

_Push the limit; are you with it?_

_Baby, don't be afraid,_

_I'mma hurt you real good, baby_."

The audience cheered as Kurt pranced around on stage while Finn stood timidly by the side, allowing Kurt the spotlight. The diva continued:

"_No escaping when I start,__  
><em>_Once I'm in I own your heart,__  
><em>_There's no way you'll ring the alarm,__  
><em>_So hold on until it's over._"

The crowd cheered in response, many getting to their feet, and dancing along. Finn put the microphone up to his mouth and picked up the chorus after Kurt. An annoyingly loud cheer came from the back of the room from Rachel in support of her boyfriend.

"_Oh, do you know what you got into?__  
><em>_Can you handle what I'm 'bout to do?__  
><em>_'Cause it's about to get rough for you;__  
><em>_I'm here for your entertainment._

"_Oh, I bet you thought that I was soft and sweet,__  
><em>_You thought an angel swept you off your feet,__  
><em>_But I'm about to turn up the heat;__  
><em>_I'm here for your entertainment_."

They received a thundering applause from the crowd, whoops and cheers sounding through the room.

"_It's alright__, y__ou'll be fine,__  
><em>_Baby, I'm in control,__  
><em>_Take the pain__, t__ake the pleasure;__  
><em>_I'm the master of both,__  
><em>_Close your eyes, not your mind,__  
><em>_Let me into your soul;__  
><em>_I'm a work it 'til you're totally blown._"

In that instant, Finn slumped to the floor with a heavy thump, and the speakers blared with this fallen microphone's feedback. The crowd gasped as Kurt towered over his stepbrother, a hand on his hip.

"Seriously, Finn? You're ruining my performance _now_?" he huffed into the microphone, glaring down. Two Dalton boys from the swim team hurriedly ran to the stage, hauling the unconscious quarterback to a couch at the back of the room. Rachel teetered over to the couch where her boyfriend was placed, and knelt by him, wiping off a sheen of perspiration on her boyfriend's face.

Rachel explained to the concerned crowd gathered around the boy. "He wasn't feeling very well today. Just let him sleep if off for now. Go back to the contest," she reassured the crowd. They reluctantly left the two alone after much insistence from her.

The silence in the room was deafening until David spoke up. "Who's_ up for round two_?" With that, the crowd burst into cheers again, the contest back on track, and the fallen quarterback forgotten.

Wes took the microphone. "We now bring Reed and Puckerman on to the stage!" A small squeak sounded from where Reed was seated against the wall as the crowd cheered in encouragement at the odd pair. Reed stumbled forwards all the same when Kurt dragged the smaller boy to the front. Puck was already by the music player and slipping in a CD.

"Avenged Sevenfold?" The small Dalton boy's eyes widened when he heard the intro music, a microphone thrust into his hand. Puck only smirked evilly at Reed, eyebrows waggling.

"Man up, van Kamp!" Kurt yelled from where he was seated on the floor leaning against Blaine, who only nodded at his fellow Warbler.

Puck threw an arm around Reed's shoulders, and practically growled out the opening verse.

"_Before the story begins: is it such a sin,__  
><em>_For me to take what's mine, until the end of time__?__  
><em>_We were more than friends; before the story ends,__  
><em>_And I will take what's mine, create what God would never design._

"

_Our love had been so strong for far too long;__  
><em>_I was weak with fear that something would go wrong,__  
><em>_Before the possibilities came true,__  
><em>_I took all possibility from you._"

Reed, encouraged, continued the following verse with the utmost confidence, also almost growling the lines (but failed), with Puck covering back up:

"_Almost laughed myself to tears,__  
><em>_Conjuring her deepest fears__  
><em>_(Come here you fucking bitch)__Must've stabbed her fifty fucking times,__  
><em>_I can't believe it:__  
><em>_Ripped her heart out right before her eyes,__  
><em>_Eyes over easy, eat it, eat it, eat it!_"

Together, the duets partners closed the song, both singing in a low key.

"_'Cause I really always knew that my little crime__would be cold,_

_That's why I got a heater for your thighs.  
>And I know, I know it's not your time,<br>But bye, bye.  
>And a word to the wise when the fire dies,<br>You think it's over but it's just begun,  
>But baby don't cry.<em>

_You had my heart, at least for the most part._  
><em>'Cause everybody's gotta die sometime,<em>  
><em>We fell apart, let's make a new start.<em>  
><em>'Cause everybody's gotta die sometime, yeah, yeah.<em>  
><em>But baby don't cry."<em>

The crowd burst into loud catcalls, cheers, and applauses as the two standing on stage bowed, with Reed almost keeling over from the blood rushing to his head if it weren't for Puck grabbing the back of his shirt. A chant for an encore erupted from the crowd.

"Now, now," Wes said as the pair descended the stage. "We all want to give a fair chance to all, don't we? And that is why the next pair is Mercedes and Tina!"

The pair sang _Wannabe_ by the Spice Girls, getting the crowd pumping again with their energetic and infectious singing, before Tina tripped off the stage, pulling Mercedes along with her. Both were on the floor in a tangle of limbs, giggling on the floor. Mike had to drag the two apart when they wouldn't get up from where they had fallen over.

Wes announced the next pair, Santana and Mike. The Latino refused with a cross of her arms ("Tonight, I only sing with Britts."), so Mike was paired up with Rachel, whose chosen partner, Artie, had also refused with a cross of his arms across his chest ("Berry ain't no ghetto girl, therefore I ain't doin' no duet with her."). So Mike had sung along to Rachel's song choice of _Terrified_ by Katherine McPhee and Zachary Levi with wide eyes, in awe of Rachel's awe-inspiring voice.

"Okay, listen up, people," Jeff called over the din of the crowd. The lot of them were standing by the poolside in the backyard where the party had progressively turned into a pool party.

Mrs Sterling had demanded that the singing should stop before someone loses their voice, but everyone had the same thought in their minds: she was simply downplaying in describing the squawks and screeches coming from Marcus, Frederick, Lucas, and Sugar who thought they were _amazing_ singers (they had refused to surrender their microphones). The Sterling matriarch had the cook order a rack of lamb, a selection of raw meat, and other foodstuff for a barbecue dinner by the pool for the party prior to ending the horrible noises coming from the entertainment room upstairs. There were already people attacking the prepared spread before them when they emerged from the house as the cook grilled more chicken cutlets and burger patties.

"The pool house has house bikinis for the girls and swimming trunks for the guys," Jeff announced, pointing to aforementioned building. "You can change in there as well."

"So I suppose the contest's punishments are all null and void?" Wes asked in disappointment. Jeff shrugged apologetically as the contestants who had refused their given partners whooped in delight, having escaped "ego damage, destroyed reputations, and a lifetime of torments and teasing." David sighed dejectedly.

The crowd gathered then dispersed, to each their own. Soon, the party was back in full swing with music blaring from speakers, fairy lights twinkling amidst the summer stars that dotted the sky. The guests who had decided to go in the waters were already in the pool in provided swimsuits playing volleyball. A few opted for the hot tub adjacent to the expansive swimming pool while the rest were simply either lounging about or eating.

Quinn lounged on a deck chair, cardigan shed and draped over the back of the chair. She was watching to ongoing game when Jeff approached her in nothing but a pair of bright pink swimming trunks. She almost did a double take when she saw how built and toned he was. Did he really hid all those under his clothes?

"Nice shorts," she smirked, trying hard not to stare at his abs and chest. She quickly averted her gaze before her thoughts got the better of her.

"Thanks. I look good in pink, don't I?" He winked at her as he sat by her feet. She crawled behind him, wrapping her arms around his taut chest while resting her chin on his shoulder.

"Nope," she grinned cheekily. "Green or blue would suit you better, but since you're being feminine about it. . ." she trailed off.

He cleared his throat. "I beg to differ!" he cried. "Pink can be a very masculine colour, thank you very much! I can assure you that I can definitely pull off pink better than you _and_ Kurt," he declared with a slight rise to his voice.

"_Excuse me_? Did you just say you could pull a colour off better than _I_, Kurt Hummel, can? That's rich, coming from a hoodie-over-jeans guy," Kurt scoffed defiantly from the food table. "You honestly should consider more colour choices besides pink and blue, Jeff. You'd charm more girls besides Quinn- I still love you, girl, but your boyfriend's taste in clothes is just _horrendous_!"

The blonde couple just snickered to themselves as the fashionista rattled on about the importance of dressing up to look fabulous and colour combination that is _just right_ and do not resemble stop lights. Poor Blaine and Puck had to be the only two nearby to go through Kurt's lecture, both nodding mutely at Kurt's every word. Blaine was sending glares to Jeff for even mentioning the word 'fashion' in the first place as Puck successfully slipped away with the excuse of going to the men's room.

"So what are you doing here, really?" Quinn suddenly asked.

He gave her a perplexed look. "What are you talking about? My mother kicked us out here-"

"No, no. no, I'm sorry," she quickly backtracked quickly. "I meant what is your family doing in Ohio in the summer? Don't you usually go on a holiday somewhere else or something?" she queried. "Seems a bit strange to be in a boring and mundane place like Ohio during the summer." She shrugged nonchalantly.

"Oh," he realized. "Usually Mother would pack us up for Europe to be with Dad, but it _is_ my last summer here before moving up to New Haven. Yale, remember? The Dalton boys and I had agreed to spend our last summer at home, instead of abroad," he smirked, pinching her nose playfully. "We're going to our summer house in the Hamptons in two weeks, though. I think Dad's taking some time off to see us, too," he grinned at her excitedly. His eyes were shining at the prospect of seeing his absent father after such a long time apart.

Quinn was lucky that Jeff couldn't see her face fall at the mention of his going to the Hamptons so soon from the was she was holding him to her. That odd pang in her chest upon hearing the news had hit her, and the way he so casually mentioned it to her as if by passing created a hollow feeling in her chest. She didn't know how long he would be there, or when he would be returning home to her, or if she'd get to see him before the summer ended, even. She quickly recomposed her expression.

"I hope you have fun there," she murmured trying to sound as sincere, but she was sure it didn't come out the way she intended it to.

He let out a small bark of laughter. "I intend to; it _is_ the Hamptons, after all. And I think the twins will be there as well, unless they decide to go to Spain this year or something." Quinn grimaced. She'd be alone when he leaves, and-

"You don't have to pack so much though. Just light clothes and swim suits, of course; it's a beach front house," he continued. "And sunglasses, 'cause it's really sunny there?" he chuckled. "Duh."

"What?" she blurted, frowning.

He turned to face her, eyebrows knitted together. "You're coming, aren't you?" he asked, then raising his eyebrows. "I mean, we can go somewhere else if you want. Hamptons is just an option, of course, but if you want to leave the country, I'm sure the twins will drop us somewhere else on their way to Europe," Jeff quickly said, afraid that Quinn might not want to go to the Hamptons after all.

"You're asking me to go with you?"

The colour drained from the Warbler's face. "Y-You don't want to?"

"I can't afford-"

Then Jeff laughed, a low and hearty chuckle deep from within his belly. "Oh, you silly girl! We have a private jet, so you don't have to worry about ticketing and all that time-consuming jazz," he smiled gently as he encased her in a hug while his other hand stroked her hair gently.

A private jet. The Sterlings and the Brightman twins owned their own jets. Jeff drove an Audi, his mother a Ferrari, and the twins a Rolls Royce. The Sterlings had a chopper on the roof of their house. Jeff had his own wing in the house. Quinn's head spun; this was too much to process in a go. _Just how rich are these Dalton boys exactly?_ She shook the thought away; no point questioning it anyway: she didn't have a right, and she was dead determined to _not_ be one of Jeff's ex girlfriends who expected so much from one smart and outgoing such as he.

"My mother would love for you to join us there anyway," he added so softly, it was almost a mumble. "And Dad would love to have met you at least once or twice before disappearing off to Europe again, I'm sure."

Quinn could see he was worried that she wouldn't want to spend her holidays with him at his summer house. She was surprised he would even extend the invitation to her in the first place even though she was the epitome of a perfect houseguest (having stayed with Puck and Mercedes when she was pregnant at sixteen). Her feelings then morphed into a worry that Jeff wants his father to meet her first. Her biggest concern was that of the successful Sterling patriarch wouldn't approve of her as a person, or that she wasn't up to the family's standards, or remotely good enough for his son.

All the same, she tried to suppress all the concerns she was having now. In attempt to lighten the mood and push her thoughts away and to distract Jeff from his tendency to over think, she just laughed lightly, making him raise his eyebrows. She planted a kiss on his cheek before saying, "Relax, will you?" She was sure she was also reassuring herself as well as she took a hand in both of hers. "I'd love to meet your father," she smiled at him gently. Her smile widened when she felt him relax against her.

They sat together by the poolside for some time. Then Jeff piped up with a grin, "Care to join me in the pool?" His brown eyes were shining amidst the twinkling fairy lights. Quinn knew he was up to something, but she couldn't get a word out. Before she could answer, he literally swept her off her feet, cradling her in his arms and jumped into the pool.

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><p><strong>There you have it: part two of five! There is, of course, an epilogue coming up, so do be patient for it.<strong>

**Note: You know what to do with the cute little blue button that say 'Review this Story.' (;**

**Thank you for reading! (:**


	7. Epilogue

**Here it is: the final and last addition to _The Beatles: Summer Flings_. It had been an extremely memorable and pleasurable experience writing this down to be read by all your darlings out there.**

**I just wanted to thank everyone who reviewed this story, added it to his/her alerts and favourites. You guys made me so happy! (':**

**I do not own anything of Glee; make no money from the stories; the original characters belong to the creators, producers, and scriptwriters. Any events related to real life are purely coincidental. **

**Enough rambling. I now proudly present to you the epilogue to _The Beatles: Summer Flings_.**

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><p>He paced the space of the apartment bedroom, opening closet doors and checking beneath their shared bed, searching. "Babe, have you unpacked those boxes that came in yesterday? I can't find them in the storage room, and the doorman said he sent the delivery guy up yesterday," he yelled outside the bedroom door.<p>

"Yeah, I signed for them. I didn't open them though, 'cause they were unlabeled," came the shouted reply from the direction of the kitchen. She was unpacking the last of the utensils and china that were shipped over just this morning. A heavy thump followed by a muffled swear word made him dash to the kitchen where he saw her nursing a foot.

"Are you okay?" he asked, worried. His eyebrows were knitted together in concern.

She looked up from where she was seated on a chair, biting her lower lip. Her eyes were a bit watery. "The knife block landed on my foot!" she cried. The aforementioned object laid on its side on the floor by the counter a few feet from where she sat.

"At least your foot's not a bleeding mess if there were knives in there," he laughed, leaning on the doorjamb where he was watching her amusedly. "The police might think that I tried to murder my girlfriend if I dialled for help."

"Oh, har, har," she laughed sarcastically then sticking her tongue out at him. "First of all, you call an ambulance when someone is bleeding. And two, the boxes you mentioned earlier are in the study room. Only you would be lazy enough to _not_ label your things." She rolled her hazel-green eyes at him. "Thanks," she said to him when he picked up the offending block of wood that dropped on her foot.

"I'm going to unpack those last boxes that came in yesterday then," he absently said, planting a kiss on the top of her head. "Then we'll be officially moved in!" he grinned at her. She returned it with a bright beam of her own.

He strode towards the study, shutting the door behind him, making sure that it clicked silently before walking to the three boxes stacked by the fireplace. Using the key card to the apartment, he sliced through the tape that sealed all three cardboard boxes before slipping it back into his pocket. He then seated himself on the carpeted floor and proceeded to surround himself with the contents of the boxes.

The first box contained stacks upon stacks of framed photographs, spanning from six years ago to the most recent one from a week prior. The first photograph he drew out was of him and a blonde girl standing hand in hand on a beach in the Hamptons watching the sun meld into the sea, their backs facing the camera. The next frame was from three years ago, on his twenty-first birthday party. He was sitting with an arm around her, and she was caught in mid-laugh while hugging his midsection. She had traces of cake frosting on her nose, but his face was covered in lumps of cake because the twins had smashed his face in on it. He then took out another picture from the top pile in the box that showed the two other them standing in that very room he was currently in, right in front of the fireplace. Both of them wore excited expressions as they held each other in the still photograph.

He placed the three pictures right in the middle of the mantel over the fireplace. The last two frames that followed flanked the three in the middle. The first was a picture of the New Directions and The Troubletones while the other was of the Dalton Academy Warblers. The rest of the photographs in the box would be on every imaginable surface of their apartment later on.

He moved on to the second box of memorabilia: various trinkets that had followed him from childhood to where he was now. He picked up a leather-bound book from within the box and it flipped open to a page that was frequented so much that the corners of the page were dog-eared and worn; it was a journal entry from the day that she had agreed to be his girlfriend. He smiled to himself as he slid the book into the bookshelf by the desk. The next few books that followed were yearbooks from Dalton, novels, more journals, and finally, a record sleeve of The Beatles best collections. His eyes glazed over as he reminisced:

_"You want a listen to the record I borrowed?" she asked later that week. It had been three days since his Yale acceptance party she had thrown for him. They were hanging out at her house while waiting for Mercedes to pick them up for some shopping._

_"Sure," he had shrugged. He watched her as she slipped on the record on the old gramophone and carefully placed the needle on it._

_They had sung along to half the songs on the album until an impatient Mercedes blared her horn to catch their attention, snapping them both out of their reverie._

_When the due date for the borrowed record was up, she had returned it with a heavy heart. "We bonded over that stupid record," she said in a sad tone after returning it to the library. "It's thanks to that that I found you. If I hadn't-"_

_He had quickly silenced her with a finger to her lips. "But it didn't happen, did it? I wouldn't have you if you weren't there to borrow it, or if I had picked a different day to check out those bricks for my mother!" he cried, hands flailing wildly. She snorted out a laugh at his dramatics as they walked back to his car._

_After dropping her home, he had broken the speed limit to get back to the library before closing time. He checked out the old Beatles record for its last time that day._

"You never returned it, did you?" came the question from the door. She stood there with the smallest but softest smile on her lips as she watched him place the record back on the shelf.

"No," he admitted with a small chuckle.

She crossed the floor, closing the space between them and hugged him close. He kissed the top of her head, wrapping his arms around her small frame tightly. She looked up at him. "You do know that you now owe the library hundreds of dollars worth of fines, right?"

He laughed heartily. "I'm not going to return it, ever," he said with a finality.

"Good; don't." She slipped away from him and surveyed the room. The walls were repainted and wallpapered where necessary, the lights fixated at regular intervals, floor carpeted, boxes (save for one) were all unpacked and its contents in and around the apartment. Sighing in relief, she said, "We have officially moved in."

He held her from behind, resting his chin on her head. "Mm, welcome to Connecticut, baby," he mumbled.

"Don't you feel as if it's so surreal to be here, just the two of us, by ourselves?"

"No, it's perfect," he smiled. "Besides, New York's only an hour or two away; Kurt and Rachel and Mercedes can come over anytime!"

She hummed in agreement. Before she received her acceptance letter from Yale, she had never dreamed that she would be living in an upscale apartment in New Haven with her boyfriend. She had honestly thought she would forever be a Lima loser, attending community college there, end up marrying someone she didn't love, and be a housewife raising three children by now. Those thoughts were long banished from her mind, because right now, six years on, she was still happy with that one guy she had never regretted getting together with since the day of the party she threw him.

_"Quinn Fabray, will you be my girlfriend?"_

She never once questioned their relationship; they had never really fought in extremes, their worst fight being which right apartment they should purchase, only a mere one and a half months ago. Many had envied their relationship throughout the years, but everyone would say the same thing: they were perfect and made for each other. They complemented each other so perfectly, in terms of looks, personality, and their talents. When they sang together, their voices had the ability to stop people in their tracks, mesmerizing and hypnotizing them all.

Mr and Mrs Sterling had never seen their only son so full of life before. They could see that the younger blonde had brought a spark to their son's eyes whenever she entered the room, and his actions were always coordinated with hers, as if their bodies knew the other's presence. At first, Samuel Sterling II was wary of the girl when he first met her at his summerhouse in the Hamptons; she seemed so ordinary, so _common_. Towards the end of the summer, she had won him over with her charming smiles, her impeccable memory of Great Britain's history and economics, besides the reason his son was always beaming at her. In the end, he had been persuaded by Clara to buy them an apartment in New Haven where the both of them would be doing their further studies in Yale.

"Quinn?" he called, waving a hand in front of her face. She had been so caught up in the past that she had completely spaced out right in the middle of the study room. "Are you here?" He snapped his fingers in her face.

She shook her head once to clear the haze in her mind. Laughing in embarrassment, she said, "Yeah, sorry, babe. I was just thinking about the day when I first met your Dad."

"Yeah, Dad usually has an impression on people like that," he smiled gently. "Speaking of fathers, I want to show you something." He took her hand and led her to the balcony overlooking the town's square. "Wait here," he instructed. She stared at her retreating boyfriend who was going back into the study.

"Jeff, what are yo-" she started before he popped back out again. "What are you doing?" she asked again.

"Quinn, look, I have to be honest with you," he sighed. "Dad hardly ever approves of anyone he meets, even my friends-"

"No kidding. It was so hard to impress him when we were at the Hamptons!" she groaned, huffing a little.

"-even Nick took a few months to get into Dad's good books. And trust me, it wasn't easy for poor Nicky then."

"But Nick's your best friend!"

"Exactly. And it took you, what? One and a half months to win him over." He rolled his eyes. "Trust me, Nick had been bragging about it for well over a month to the others ever since."

"So, what are you saying now exactly?" she asked, an eyebrow raised. "I'm going to shout it here to the world that I have my boyfriend's father's approval faster than his best friend?" she smirked playfully. When she didn't receive a form of response, she quickly backtracked. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way. What _are_ you trying to say? 'cause I'm confused and I don't see where this is going. . ." she rambled on, embarrassed only to trail away.

"That last night when the Tweedles threw a huge clambake on the beach in the Hamptons, do you remember that?" She nodded. "That was Dad's last night there before he left for Europe again, right?" Again, she nodded. "The both of us -Dad and I- were taking a walk on the beach, talking."

"Where was I that time?" she questioned. Her eyes housed confusion at the faint memory.

"Learning sign language from the twins and Audrey," Jeff grinned, eyes clouded over as he recalled the fond memory all those years ago. "So, anyway," he continued. "Dad and I got talking. About many things, actually; like about my taking over his family business when I'm of age. And marriage," he paused, assessing the look on his girlfriend's face. Her eyes were wide, as if she knew what was about to come.

"He said that if someone can make you so happy that you forget the world in a breath or a bat of an eye, jump at the chance. "Things like these only come once -twice, if you're lucky- in a lifetime," he had said." His gaze penetrated into hers; he hoped she could feel how sincere he was being right now.

"Then, he gave me this," he said, pulling out blue velvet box, snapping it open to reveal a silver band sitting in velvet cushioning. The band was encrusted with small topaz stones with a single gleaming diamond atop. He got down on one knee.

"So what I'm saying now is: Quinn Fabray, will you marry me?"

She stood there, shell-shocked and stunned to a silence. Her eyes travelled back and forth between the rock to Jeff's sincere brown eyes that were staring hopefully up at her. The news of the proposal suddenly hit her in full force; her eyes welled up immediately, and her hands were shaking as she nodded at him, afraid her voice might betray her if she spoke. The tears were already spilling from her eyes as she extended her left hand to him.

He slid the ring on the finger with the biggest smile plastered on his face and stood up, immediately enveloping her in a hug. "I love you," he murmured into her hair.

"I love you, too."

* * *

><p><strong>And there you go, the ending of this incredible story! It's a shame, though; I'd like to see them happy after this. But alas, they would like to keep their wedding a secret until further notice. We shall respect their wishes, yes? (':<strong>

**If you all hadn't noticed, The Beatles songs in each chapter are based on Dianna Agron's top five favourite Beatles song, according to her Nylon Magazine article interview, dated December 18th, 2011. A link has been posted on my profile page for more details.**

**Part five (chapters 5 and 6, respectively), titled _I Want You_ and _She's So Heavy_, respectively, are both Dianna and Riker Lynch's favourite Beatles songs, by the way. Aren't they simply made for each other? Makes me wanna go "Aww!" myself!**

**Thank you all so much for reading. Don't forget to review!**

**xx, Kayy.**


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